Squib Caretaker
by Ozma
Summary: COMPLETE. Students and Professors leave Hogwarts for the summer. Filch discovers that Salazar Slytherin wasn't the only Founder with a Secret. Also featuring McGonagall, Snape and Black. Sequel to Squib Puppet.
1. Sojourns With Squibs

Squib Caretaker   
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
Chapter One: Sojourns with Squibs  
(Apologies to Gilderoy Lockhart)  
a sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
The moment I emerged from red-and-gold into the quiet Charms   
corridor, the sleek tabby cat in my arms became a lovely woman.  
  
It was after midnight. The term was all but over; the Leaving   
Feast only two days away. In a portrait on the wall across from us a   
shepherdess dozed on a hillside, surrounded by her slumbering sheep. No   
one else was nearby. The Castle was silent around us, or at least as   
silent as the Castle ever gets. Mrs. Norris was patrolling the corridors   
on her own tonight. If any students had been up to mischief, I would   
find out about it tomorrow.  
  
I was still supposed to be on light duties, but Poppy Pomfrey had   
given me permission to resume my lessons with Alastor Moody. The medi-  
witch had made the old Auror promise that he'd be careful with me.  
  
Recently the lessons had demanded more of Professor McGonagall   
than they did of me. Mad Eye wanted to learn more about the Doors'   
effect on Animagi.  
  
Moody had given me a simple assignment. I was to "learn to relax"   
while bringing passengers through a Door. Easier said than done, but I   
was trying.  
  
Minerva's task was more challenging. She and Moody were both   
trying to find out if an Animagus could learn to slowly build up   
resistance to the Door's protective spells after repeated exposures.   
Over the past few days Minerva and I had become old hands at going   
through Godric's Door together.  
  
Never one for taking unnecessary chances, Poppy had insisted that   
Minerva should practice Transfiguring in my arms many times before we   
went through the tapestry. The first time, when Minerva had emerged,   
human and unconscious, I had known how to catch her without doing either   
of us an injury.  
  
Now, I supported Minerva as she put her arms around my neck. Very   
wobbly, but standing on her own two feet, she rested her head against my   
shoulder while she caught her breath.  
  
"Professor?" I asked her anxiously, "are you all right?"  
  
"Perfectly all right, Argus," she assured me.  
  
"You did it!!" I said, proudly. "You came out standing!!"  
  
"More or less," Minerva said. Her tone was wry.  
  
After several minutes, her breathing returned to normal.   
  
"Are you ready for another try?" She asked me.  
  
Nodding, I held out my arms. Even as I did, she was simultaneously   
Transfiguring and leaping into them. With her cradled against my chest,   
I stepped backwards into red-and-gold once more.  
  
The place inside the Doors is a realm that I only see when I   
travel with passengers. Godric's Door is all red and gold within. Moving   
inside the tapestry has grown easier with practice, or perhaps I am   
merely getting used to slogging my way through. Carrying Minerva through   
this red and gold place was like wading through waist deep water.  
  
She and I emerged into the Great Hall, in back of the staff table.   
The crew of house-elves that were busy dusting and sweeping under the   
silvery moon, which was visible on the enchanted ceiling above, glanced   
over at us. Several smiled, but none of them paused in their work.  
  
From the Great Hall, we went next to the trophy room. Nearly   
Headless Nick and the Grey Lady stood there, deep in conversation. Both   
ghosts nodded gravely when they saw us.  
  
After that we went to the Astronomy tower. Each time Minerva   
emerged from the tapestry, she was human and wobbly, but also   
triumphantly awake and aware. Each time I held her while she caught her   
breath. I was proud of her progress, but she seemed unsatisfied.  
  
"Professor, what are you trying to do?" I asked her.  
  
"Remain a cat," she gasped. "If it's at all possible. But I can't   
seem to manage it!"  
  
Removing her wand from her sleeve, she used a Lumos spell to give   
us some light. Her grey eyes, behind the square spectacles, were filled   
with concern.  
  
"Argus, are you all right? I'm sorry, it can't be easy dragging me   
through time after time!"  
  
Her solicitude for me made my heart dance. Minerva and I have   
known each other for so many years. I couldn't say exactly when I first   
noticed how lovely she is, or how clever. Or the way that she always   
manages to be fair, even under circumstances which are driving me into   
fits of rage.  
  
It's the warm heart underneath her stern exterior that touches me   
most deeply. Few of the children in the Castle, I fear, are perceptive   
enough to realize how much their Deputy Headmistress cares for them.   
Though her Gryffindors are aware of the pride she takes in them and   
strive to be worthy of her regard.  
  
I long to do the same! Minerva has always had my deepest respect   
and admiration. Admitting, even to myself, that she has my love as well   
had seemed very foolish, before now. She's a star quite beyond my reach.  
  
Recently though, I'd begun daring to hope otherwise...  
  
Sternly, I forced my thoughts back to the matter at hand. She had   
asked me a question! Here I was, gaping at her like a mooncalf.  
  
"I'm fine," I said. "You're the least trouble of any passenger   
I've had yet. Animagi take less effort than children do, at least when   
the Animagus in question isn't plummeting to his death."  
  
"Speaking of the Pup," Minerva said, dryly, "He's not going to   
give you any peace once he discovers that it's possible to fight the   
effects of the protective spells, with practice."  
  
"It's going to be difficult taking him over and over again, a   
creature his size," I grumbled. "I don't fancy pulling him along on a   
leash. Perhaps I can find a saddle somewhere and ride him!"  
  
Minerva laughed.  
  
"It's all very well for you to be amused," I said, testily,   
sitting on the Observatory floor. "Moody and the Pup don't see *you* as   
Hogwarts' own version of the Knight Bus!"  
  
Still chuckling softly, Minerva sat beside me to rest. I frowned   
at her, though it was only for effect. I really liked to hear her laugh.  
  
"Perhaps," she suggested, "you should offer us toothbrushes and   
hot chocolate. Or little paper sacks, in case of sickness."  
  
She paused, thoughtfully. "The Knight Bus could do with those as   
well."  
  
I shook my head. "No paper sacks, thank you very much. You and the   
Pup don't need them. I'm not planning to take any passengers who do!"  
  
*******  
  
Alastor Moody had said that he'd be tracking us this evening. He'd   
been mysterious about his methods, when I'd asked him. The absence of   
the usual red, grapefruit sized Secutus spells that he usually chased me   
with, was puzzling.  
  
Minerva and I were in front of a mirror on the fourth floor when   
we heard the *clunk* of Moody's claw-footed wooden leg approaching.  
  
When Mad Eye came into view he was accompanied by Callandra   
Moffitt. That answered my question. Callandra had been diligently   
practicing her Searching during the weeks that I'd spent recuperating   
from Lucius Malfoy's double Curse. She was now able to find many of her   
fellow Gryffindors, including her Head of House.  
  
I knew that it wasn't me she'd been able to follow. Giving off no   
magical traces, I was quite invisible to Callandra's Searching.  
  
Obviously the child was up and around at this hour with both Mad   
Eye's and Minerva's permission. Nevertheless, I frowned.  
  
"She should be asleep!" I grumbled.  
  
"Only two more days until she goes home," Moody said,   
unrepentantly. "I mean to make the most of 'em."  
  
"What a time I had following you, Professor!" Callandra was saying   
to Minerva. "You've been all over the Castle! And there were times when   
you just disappeared!"  
  
The girl turned to me, wide-eyed. "Professor Moody told me how you   
did that, Mr. Filch!"  
  
"H-He did?" I wheezed.  
  
I knew that the old Auror considered the students of Hogwarts to   
be an untapped resource, and I agreed with him, to a point, but I didn't   
like the idea of him simply telling the child! What would the Headmaster   
say?  
  
Moody gave me his knife-slash of a grin. "Albus said that I had   
his approval to add Miss Moffitt to the List," he told me, making me   
wonder if he could read minds. "The lass can keep a secret. Potter,   
Granger, Ron and Ginny Weasley already know. So does Longbottom."  
  
"Neville too?" Callandra was delighted.  
  
"Show her, Filch," Moody said, gruffly. "Call your Doors."  
  
"It's all right, Argus," Minerva encouraged me, briskly.  
  
I sighed. If Minerva approved as well, any protests I made would   
be futile.  
  
Well, at least Callandra wasn't finding out in the middle of some   
life-and-death crisis, as the other children had done, I thought.  
  
In answer to my summons, the other three tapestries appeared on   
the corridor wall beside red-and-gold.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore wanted you to have a look at 'em, lass,"   
Moody said. "Tell us what you can."  
  
Tentatively, Callandra ran her hands along each Door. She was   
silent for many minutes. Minerva, Moody and I watched with interest. I   
was reminded of the way that the Headmaster and Severus Snape had   
examined the Doors the day after I'd learned how to summon them.  
  
The ways of Squibs like Callandra and me are a mystery to most   
wizards. We're learning that not all of our talents are alike. Older and   
more experienced, I am able to identify many different types of spells   
more easily than Callandra can do. (Having spent so much of my life at   
this school hasn't hurt, either.)  
  
But, the child's ability to distinguish one wizard's magic from   
another's can let her sense things that I cannot.  
  
After a while, Callandra spoke hesitantly. "I know you believe   
that each of these Doors was made by a different founder," she said.   
"And each one was definitely warded and used by a different person. But,   
under those traces, I think that they were originally the work of a   
single hand."  
  
As she spoke, Callandra's slim, brown hands rested on black-and   
yellow. "Hers."  
  
Minerva and Moody looked surprised, but I smiled. I thought of a   
workroom hidden somewhere in the Castle, a place that I'd only been able   
to reach through Helga's Door. A Weaver's room, filled with sunlight and   
the scent of flowers, though the loom was now empty and the spinning   
wheel now stood idle.  
  
"She made her own, and gave the other three theirs as gifts..."   
Minerva murmured.  
  
"An interesting bit of information for Albus," Moody's gruff voice   
was pleased.  
  
I saw that Callandra's examination of the tapestries had tired   
her. The child was yawning.  
  
"All right, lesson's over!" I said, firmly. "Off to bed with you   
now!"  
  
"You could bring me back to Gryffindor tower straight away,"   
Callandra suggested shyly. "The Door's protective spells don't hurt   
people like us."  
  
I glowered at her.  
  
Callandra might be a Squib like me, but she's also every inch a   
Gryffindor. Show any of Godric's chosen something potentially unpleasant   
and dangerous and they can't wait to try it.  
  
The child looked hopeful, Minerva looked encouraging and Moody   
looked smug. He'd promised he'd never ask me to take passengers again,   
or trick me into doing it either. He never had to. He was adept at   
getting others to do their own asking.  
  
"Argus," Minerva said, reasonably. "We'll never learn what effect   
Godric's Door will have on her, unless you try. Don't worry. According   
to all our theories, Callandra should be fine."  
  
"Theoretically," Moody mused, "you ought to be able to take her   
through any of them. Not only Godric's Door."  
  
"No!" I snapped. "She's a Gryffindor! I'm not taking any more   
chances than necessary! I'm taking her through red-and-gold!"  
  
I realized what I'd said, and bit my tongue.  
  
*******  
  
A short while later, after bidding Minerva and Moody good-night,   
Callandra and I emerged from red-and-gold, directly in front of the   
portrait of the Fat Lady.  
  
Our journey had been instantaneous. Callandra was no more affected   
than I was. My relief left me weak at the knees. Guesses and theories   
are all very well, but I can't help but fear for the safety of anyone   
who comes through a Door with me.  
  
"Oh, that was fun!" Callandra cried. "It's a wonder that you walk   
anywhere!"  
  
"Walking's good exercise," I said, gruffly. "The Doors do me a   
favor by coming when I call. It wouldn't be right to take advantage."  
  
Thanking red-and-gold, I sent the Door away.  
  
Callandra smiled at me. "Good night, Mr. Filch," she said.  
  
Nodding to her, I walked away so I wouldn't hear the password.  
  
*******  
  
The night had been a busy one, and it wasn't over yet. I hadn't   
reached my room when I heard an urgent mew from down around my ankles.   
Mrs. Norris, clearly agitated about something, had found me. Clearly   
there were matters demanding my attention that wouldn't keep until   
morning.  
  
Summoning a Door at random, (it was blue-and-copper who came) my   
cat and I emerged into the corridor beside the stone gargoyle that   
guards the entrance to the Headmaster's chamber.  
  
Standing next to the gargoyle was Harry Potter.  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER ONE  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
The first part of this story was scribbled in a notebook, during the   
camping trip that I've just gotten back from. I really missed having my   
computer! (Along with hot running water, proper bathrooms, etc.)   
Happily, I was able to go online a few times while I was camping, to   
read and review some stories. The library in the town near the   
campground had internet access, for which I was extremely grateful.  
  
I don't know how fast I'll be able to update this story. Probably not as   
fast as I did the previous ones.  
  
  
Blue Moon: Thank you!! I'm baaack!  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! Yes, it would seem that Dumbledore and Moody and   
Mrs. Norris are all conspiring to throw Argus and Minerva together.   
Browly will probably be back... I wanted to show other elves along with   
Dobby and Winky.  
  
The break was longer than I meant it to be, due to ff.net's troubles and   
a bout of writer's block. And a camping trip. Writing was something I   
missed doing very much.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Sirius will show up in a later chapter. You're   
right, he was in no hurry to get well again, and leave Harry. Actually,   
the term is nearly over, so Harry will be leaving before Sirius does.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! I'm finally OUT OF THE WOODS!!!  
  
Gramayre: Thank you!!  
  
Rabbit and -v-Jinx-v- Thank you!! More Minerva and Filch in this   
chapter! Both still moving slowly and cautiously, although they are   
slightly less clueless.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Filch doesn't like taking passengers, but   
he's going to have to get used to it. Poor Severus still hasn't written   
his account for Moody, and Mad Eye is getting impatient. 


	2. The Potter Effect

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to Squib Puppet  
Chapter Two: The Potter Effect  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
The students at Hogwarts Castle often mutter, resentfully, that I   
can move through the corridors as swiftly and stealthily as any of the   
ghosts can do.  
  
Overhearing these comments makes me feel quite smug. Nearly all   
the children lack the slightest idea of how I am able to accomplish   
this.  
  
Now, staring down at Harry Potter, I felt a twinge of sympathy for   
the poor, bewildered brats. For years Potter has been roaming the   
corridors at night, seemingly at will. I know this is true, although I   
rarely see him during his nocturnal wanderings. How does he manage this?   
I haven't the slightest idea!  
  
Potter was standing beside the stone gargoyle, saying the password   
in a frantic voice.  
  
"It's `ice mice' isn't it?" he asked when he saw me. "Dumbledore   
hasn't changed it, has he? He usually lets me know, in case..."  
  
"*Professor* Dumbledore," I corrected him automatically.   
  
Fear made my voice harsh. There was a time, even a few months   
earlier, when I would have pounced gleefully, yelling threats and   
assigning Potter detention before sending him back to his dormitory with   
a flea in his ear.  
  
These days, sadder and wiser, I did none of those things.  
  
It was obvious that Potter didn't want the Headmaster for some   
frivolous reason. The boy's green eyes were huge and haunted, his face   
was pale and frightened. And he was rubbing his forehead, as if his scar   
was hurting him.  
  
I knew what that meant, although I really, truly wished I didn't.   
My heart turned to ice and dropped into my boots. Most of my evening had   
been spent in Minerva's delightful company, but even the pleasant   
feelings that lingered weren't enough to stop the shudder that ran down   
my spine.   
  
"You have the correct password," I said, croakily, my throat dry   
as dust. "Perhaps the door isn't opening because the Headmaster isn't in   
his rooms?"  
  
"He's somewhere in the Castle or on the grounds..." I added,   
hastily as Potter looked stricken. "He didn't say anything about leaving   
tonight."  
  
"You can bring me to him," Potter said, urgently. "Please!"  
  
He couldn't mean what I thought he meant, could he...?  
  
"Much faster than I can find him on my own," the boy continued.  
  
Yes, he could. I swallowed hard.  
  
"Please!" Potter repeated.  
  
Mrs. Norris, who had been looking from one of us to the other,   
backed up this request with a plaintive mew. She's warmed up to Potter   
considerably during this past year. (Since Potter was the one who   
figured out that I'd been Cursed weeks ago, helping to save my   
life, and preventing the damage I'd nearly been forced to cause, she's   
become downright fond of him.)  
  
I shook my head, silently.  
  
"Voldemort," Potter said, very deliberately, "has just murdered a   
man. I saw it happen. The Headmaster has to know!"  
  
Chilled and horrified, I forced myself to speak. My voice   
trembled. "No! I-I'm sorry, boy. You see things as they happen, not   
before they happen. This poor man is already dead, beyond your help and   
the Headmaster's. There's nothing that can be done for him now, and   
nothing to be gained by making yourself sick."  
  
Potter was quite agitated, impatient with both himself and with   
me.  
  
"The man who died was being kept a prisoner, and he wasn't the   
only one locked up! The room was dark and it was hard to see, but I   
think there were at least two other people chained up with him!"  
  
"The others still have a chance," Harry continued, desperately.   
"Maybe the Headmaster can find them while they're still alive, before   
Voldemort..."  
  
I shuddered again, not just at the sound of the unspeakable name.   
I knew what it meant to be held prisoner, chained helpless in the dark.   
It was a feeling that I'd never forget.  
  
Poor Potter looked even worse than I felt. I didn't want to think   
about the terrible things he'd already seen in his short life, or the   
toll these nightmare visions take on him.  
  
"All right," I whispered harshly, summoning red-and-gold. "This   
won't be pleasant for you. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't worry. I'll manage." The boy's voice was wry.  
  
"Minerva's right," I thought. "I should keep little paper sacks   
handy."   
  
Putting my arm across the boy's shoulders, I held on to him   
tightly.  
  
"Take us to the Headmaster, please. Wherever he is," I said, as we   
stepped into Godric's Door together.  
  
*******  
  
Alastor Moody has come up with some general "rules" and   
predictions concerning the Doors, based on our experiences with their   
protective spells.  
  
1. A Squib hasn't got enough magic to use a wand or cast a spell. The   
Doors' protective wards don't recognize Squibs as a threat. Going   
through a Door will not affect a Squib at all. (Moody calls this "the   
Filch Effect.")  
  
2. Animagi who go through a Door in animal form will emerge human and   
unconscious. (Moody refers to this as "the Black Effect.")  
  
3. Wizard children who are brought through a Door will be sick for a   
short time. ("The Longbottom-Weasley Effect".)  
  
4. Adult Wizards will be sick for a longer time. ("The Moody Effect.")  
  
5. Anyone bearing a Dark Mark would be wise to put their affairs in   
order first. ("The Snape Effect.")  
  
Severus, who has not heard Moody's thoughts on the Doors and who   
would utterly fail to be amused if he did, has often complained that   
Potter is an arrogant brat who thinks that rules apply to everyone   
except him.  
  
Well, I doubt that arrogance is the answer, (Potter isn't   
arrogant, no matter what Severus chooses to believe) but I have no   
explanation for what happened when I brought the boy through Godric's   
Door. Or rather, for what *didn't* happen.   
  
We encountered some resistance, but it was hardly worth   
mentioning. Taking the boy through the red and gold place was like   
wading through water that was perhaps only ankle deep.  
  
Potter did gasp audibly while we were inside the Door. When we   
emerged he was breathing hard and clutching his forehead with both   
hands. His face was dreadfully pale, even worse than before, but he did   
not get sick. Not even a little bit.  
  
When I asked him if he was all right, he nodded at me,   
distractedly.  
  
"6. 'The Potter Effect,'" I thought. "Another item for my   
imaginary file drawer labeled "How in Merlin's Name Does He Do That?"   
  
I wondered what Moody would make of this when I told him. The old   
Auror enjoyed puzzles...  
  
Red-and-gold had brought us out to the lake shore. There are   
several small wooden docks located at various points around the lake.   
This one was on the side closest to the Castle, built off of a rock that   
slanted down to the water's edge.  
  
At the end of the dock a figure was sitting, long silver hair and   
beard pale in the starlight. His slippers were on the dock beside him   
and his robes were pulled to his knees so he could paddle his feet in   
the water.  
  
Thanking me, the boy stepped onto the dock, moving quickly towards   
the Headmaster.  
  
*******  
  
Not wanting to stay, yet unwilling to leave, I listened to Harry's   
account of the horror he'd seen. Mrs. Norris had come through the   
tapestry with Harry and me. I held her tightly, taking what comfort I   
could.  
  
Somewhere the Dark Lord was keeping prisoners. Potter thought he   
had seen three chained figures. He'd watched one of them die, slain by   
the Dark Lord, with the Killing Curse.  
  
Strangely, though the Evil One had been furious, his anger had not   
seemed to be directed at the man he'd killed.  
  
"He said `this one is useless to me now!'" Potter said, voice   
shaking. "The man he killed had been screaming. He screamed right until   
the moment he died..."  
  
The boy was sitting, cross-legged, on the dock beside the   
Headmaster. Dumbledore had asked him to sit, for fear that Harry's   
pacing would land all of us in the water.  
  
"It was as if Voldemort was putting the poor man out of his   
misery... he seemed to think that he was being merciful!" Potter cried,   
sounding angry, frightened and heartsick.  
  
"Did you recognize any of the people that you saw, aside from   
Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked. "Or did you notice any clues that might   
lead us to where these two survivors are being kept?"  
  
Miserably, Harry shook his head. "I thought, maybe, you could use   
some sort of spell to help me remember more, something useful! Or..."   
the boy's voice shook, growing husky with fear, "maybe you could get   
some potion from Snape to make me remember things."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was gentle. "We won't need to resort to drastic   
measures, Harry. Sit here with me quietly, and try to think about what   
you saw. You may yet remember something that will help those people."  
  
I spoke without meaning to.  
  
"It's all happening again... deaths, disappearances..."  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore said, heavily. "There have been disappearances,   
and those who have gone missing are being sought. We are doing what we   
can."  
  
The words were heavy with grief. Even in the dim light the   
Headmaster's face looked weary. He didn't say if this was the first such   
vision that the boy had recently and I couldn't bear to ask.  
  
Together, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter were the best hope   
that the Wizarding world had of surviving the Evil One's second rising.   
Seeing them as a frightened boy and a grieving old man scared me. I knew   
that I was being unfair and selfish, but I couldn't help it.  
  
"Argus," Dumbledore said quietly, meeting my stricken eyes, "Harry   
will be all right here with me. Thank you for bringing him to me so   
quickly."  
  
It was a clear dismissal. I was relieved more than anything else.   
Still cradling Mrs. Norris, I turned and stepped back into red-and-gold,   
which had waited.  
  
Godric's Door brought me to my room. The tapestry's odd  
behavior after we reached our destination made Mrs. Norris and me stare.   
The tapestry flitted from wall to wall, as if it was dancing with   
happiness.  
  
"Enjoyed your busy night, did you?" I asked it as I sat on my bed   
and began pulling off my boots.  
  
In answer the Door flitted off the wall and reappeared in mid-air.   
It brushed against me affectionately, the way that Mrs. Norris will   
sometimes do when I surprise her with some catnip, before it reappeared   
on the wall.  
  
"Silly thing," I murmured, tired and distressed. "What's gotten   
into you?"  
  
  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER TWO  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I'm keeping my fingers crossed, hoping that I'll be able to upload.  
The document manager doesn't seem to like me.  
  
  
My thanks to Katinka (author of the extremely wonderful story   
"Interwoven: The Seamstress and the Lovable Stray.") Though I'd already   
been thinking of Helga Hufflepuff as a gifted weaver, Katinka's story   
introduces the concept of Weavers as a rare and special type of witch!   
And she said that it was okay for me to assume that Helga was a Weaver   
too!  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! I didn't actually intend to make Filch and Minerva   
a couple when I started writing these stories. But, the first time that   
I put them in story together, he started worshipping her. So then the   
idea wouldn't leave me alone.  
  
Andolyn: Thank you!!   
  
RADKA: Thank you!! It's good to be back!!  
  
Darklady: Thank you!! I'm posting now and keeping my fingers crossed.  
  
Pendragon: Thank you!!  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! I'm looking forward to more Uric!!!   
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Hope you feel better soon!! Filch, the old grump,   
is being mysterious about past women in his life. I'm fairly certain   
that he's never been in love before, or if he has, the feeling wasn't   
returned.   
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! I've never seen the Filch-McGonagall pairing   
before either. I thought it made sense, and they are fun together.   
  
Emma: Thank you!!  
  
Gramayre: Thank you!! Callandra's ability to identify the Doors' maker   
is linked to her Searching. (I've had an idea for a scene which hasn't   
made it into a story yet, where Callandra and Filch together are able to   
reconstruct the events of a magical battle. Filch can identify all of   
the spells that were used, and Callandra can identify the witch or   
wizard who cast each spell.)   
  
I didn't want the two Squibs' talents to be identical... it's more   
interesting to give them slightly different skills. Callandra will   
eventually learn to identify more types of spells when she senses them,   
but she'll have a long way to go before she's as good at it as Filch is.   
Sadly, Filch can't learn how to Search, that's a "use it or lose it"   
skill that fades as the Squib gets older, unless it is consciously   
practiced.  
  
Rabbit and -v-Jinx-v-: Thank you!! Yes, I suspect that both Filch and   
Minerva were enjoying the fringe benefits of their experiments with the   
Door... Moody was counting on it.   
  
Yes, Madam Pomfrey was quite firm when she told Moody to be careful with   
Filch. Poppy and Moody have very different opinions regarding Filch's   
physical condition; Moody's POV is "he's stronger than he looks," and   
Poppy's POV is "he almost died twice in the past six months, and he's   
more frail than he seems."  
  
Moody knows that Filch is old, for a Squib, but he still thinks of Filch   
as a relative youngster. I think that Moody must be closer to   
Dumbledore's age than he is to Filch's. He's old enough to retire, which   
must be quite old, in the wizarding world.  
  
Callandra is okay with the Doors because they don't perceive her as a   
threat. She's invisible to the wards that protect the Doors from being   
used by anyone unauthorized.  
  
Basically, the Protective spells check each "passenger" out very   
carefully and thoroughly. Animagi confuse the spells. It's obvious to   
the tapestries that they are more than what they seem. But, since   
Animagi can't do magic in their animal forms the spells don't make them   
sick. They emerge human because the protective wards deliver a last   
*zap* as they leave, forcing them to assume their true form. Minerva is   
learning to brace herself for the *zap.*  
  
The camping trip was fun. (But there were some rainy days... I wasn't a   
happy camper then.) We were in Upstate New York in the Adirondacks. Lake   
George is a really lovely lake, close to the border between Vermont and   
New York. There's a state campground with a nice beach, good sites set   
back in the woods so the campers aren't all on top of each other, a   
decent shower house and water spigots at reasonable intervals.  
  
However, from my point of view, the BEST thing was the local library (in   
Ticonderoga, N.Y. about twelve miles from the campground) which had   
internet access!!! I was able to go online and read stories!!!  
  
One fun camping memory that I will always treasure was a night when I   
was sitting in front of the fire with my sons and nephews, and the boys   
were all giving me suggestions for things that could be in Filch's   
"Confiscated and Highly Dangerous" file drawer. Hopefully, these things   
will show up in a story sometime.  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! Yes, Argus and Minerva do make sense as a couple,   
don't they? They have a lot in common. Both have a deep respect for   
rules and structure, both have a stern demeanor and are more soft-  
hearted than most people would expect. Both of them have similar, dry   
senses of humor. He admires her cleverness, her self control, the way   
she can handle the brats without even *wanting* to put any of them in   
chains. She admires the way he can fix almost anything *without* magic   
and always leaves a place quite a bit cleaner than it was when he found   
it.  
  
Lyansidde: Thank you!! We're going away again in about a week. My   
husband's got more vacation time coming, and the boys have been wanting   
to go to an amusement park. This trip will be much shorter though...   
only four days. We'll be "camping" in a motel this time, thankfully.   
I'll bring my writing notebook, of course.  
  
"Bridling and blushing" is a great description of Filch in love!  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, Helga was a Weaver, (like Abby, in Katinka's   
"Interwoven.") Rowena, Godric and Salazar each warded their own Doors.   
The protective spells on each tapestry are different, though Squibs are   
invisible to all the spells.   
  
You were right about why Harry was looking for Dumbledore.  
  
Larania: Thank you!!  
  
Darklady: Thank you!! Filch likes holding Minerva in either form. He may   
eventually (in a moment of either stress or supreme relaxation) forget   
that the cat in his arms is *not* Mrs. Norris, and rub her ears fondly   
or tickle her under the chin. 


	3. Good-byes and Hellos

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to Squib Puppet  
Chapter Three: Good-byes and Hellos  
Everything in this story really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
"All righ' there, Filch?" Hagrid boomed at me from the front door   
of his hut.   
  
He was propping the door open, allowing a cool breeze to flow   
inside. Though the breeze was pleasant, it was also scattering the   
papers that I'd spread across his table. At the end of every term Hagrid   
invariably sends his paperwork off to the school's board of governors   
late and full of smudges and misspelled words. Since I was still   
supposed to be on light duties, I'd offered to have a go at his forms.  
  
"Close the door!" I growled at the gamekeeper.  
  
Sighing, Hagrid obligingly swung the door shut. This created a   
strong gust of wind. The papers, notes that he had made throughout the   
term about things around the grounds that needed fixing, as well as   
receipts for items already repaired or replaced, all fluttered to the   
floor.   
  
I considered banging my head on the table in frustration.   
Instead, I yelled a few rude words at the closed door.  
  
It was likely that Hagrid did not hear me. I knew that he was   
headed down to the station to see the students onto the train.  
  
Another year was over. The Leaving Feast had come and gone. The   
Quidditch Cup had been awarded to Gryffindor. The House Cup had been   
awarded to Hufflepuff, accompanied by loud applause from all four   
tables. (The Gryffindors and Slytherins had both been *so* glad that the   
other one hadn't won the House Cup.)  
  
Even inside Hagrid's hut I could feel the Castle's immense,   
inhuman presence reacting to the students' exodus. It seemed to be   
stretching and sighing. Irreverently, I was reminded of the way that I   
feel at the end of long day when I can finally pull off my boots, put my   
feet up and relax for a bit.  
  
I'd gotten some sense of this before, at the end of other terms.   
I'd always dismissed it as a foolish fancy. Now I knew differently. The   
Castle really does have an awareness of Its own.  
  
When looked at from the Castle's point of view, the students would   
be back soon enough. It seemed to know the children as a group, not as   
individuals. The places left vacant by the departing seventh years would   
be filled by the new first years, just as it had been for a thousand   
Septembers past.  
  
I wished that I could be as sure that things would continue just   
as they had always done. He Who Must Not Be Named had returned.   
Creatures of the Dark seemed to be gaining strength throughout the   
Wizarding world. People were disappearing and dying. Everything felt   
fragile and uncertain.   
  
Greatly adding to my anxiety was the knowledge that, within a few   
more days, the Headmaster and the professors would be leaving the Castle   
too. No one would be left except for me, the house-elves, the ghosts and   
Peeves. Even Hagrid was leaving, as he had done the summer before. The   
gamekeeper could not reveal the details of his mission but it was   
evident that Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, was also   
involved. Hagrid had been wandering about for the past few days,   
grinning and singing tunelessly in French.  
  
I'd missed him last summer, though I never would have admitted it   
out loud. This year I'd be missing and worrying about everyone.   
Especially poor Severus, who walked a particularly shadowed path.   
  
Severus was due to leave in a few days. I knew better than to ask   
him about his plans. The Headmaster had told me that the Potions Master   
was expected to return periodically over the summer.  
  
Professor McGonagall's plans for the summer were equally   
mysterious. I would miss Minerva most of all. It almost scared me to   
realize how just how I much was going to miss her...  
  
Grumbling, I knelt and gathered the bedraggled papers off the   
floor. Keeping myself as busy as possible was the only thing that would   
help.  
  
Trying to find some order in the chaos of Hagrid's forms was   
certainly a daunting enough task.   
  
When I'd asked Hagrid for his records, the big man had found some   
papers in his sock drawer, located another stack in a box under his bed   
and found a few more stuck on a large nail, driven into the wall over   
the fireplace. Then he'd produced some crumpled papers from his trouser   
pockets (those appeared to have gone through the laundry a time or two,)   
and still more papers were removed from the pockets of his moleskin   
overcoat. A few papers in the latter group appeared to have been gnawed.   
Possibly by a small animal, also lodging in Hagrid's pockets.  
  
"Someone's getting a filing cabinet for Christmas..." I muttered.  
  
*******  
  
The Hogwarts Express had left the station long before I finished   
Hagrid's forms. I'd already said my good-byes to the students I had   
grown to care for during the year, last night at the Leaving Feast.   
  
The ache that still lingered in my heart today was unexpected.   
  
Ginny had put Bastet in my lap, before patting Mrs. Norris and   
giving me a hug that had made my ribs creak. "Have a good summer, Mr.   
Filch," she'd said. "I'll write to you and Mrs. Norris, and I'll send   
pictures of Bastet so you can see how she's growing!"  
  
Colin, Dennis, Daniel, Hannah, Lilith and Gehenna had, at various   
times during the feast, also come over to me and Mrs. Norris with their   
kittens. The small cats were thriving, starting to look a bit more like   
proper cats now and less like silly little balls of fluff.  
  
Neville and Callandra had each promised to send me postcards from   
wherever they went on holiday. They had made me promise them that I   
would look after myself properly.  
  
I must have looked melancholy then, because Ron had cheerfully   
reminded me that Fred and George would not be returning in September. In   
answer, I had shown him my pocket-calendar for the year, with each day   
numbered and crossed off. The date of the twins' last Leaving Feast had   
been circled in gold ink.  
  
When I mentioned that I had six other such calendars (counting   
down every single day of every single term until the twins finally left   
Hogwarts for the unsuspecting world beyond,) Ron had snickered.  
  
"Have you ever done a seven year countdown for anyone besides Fred   
and George?" He'd wanted to know.  
  
"Oh, yes indeed...," I'd said dryly, as Snuffles dangled his   
tongue in dog-laughter.  
  
Hermione had given me a short reading list. "Just a few books that   
you might find interesting, if you have some time..." she'd said.   
  
I was concerned about Harry. He'd grinned at me when Ron and I had   
been talking about Fred and George, but he was still pale and troubled.   
I knew without having to ask that he and the Headmaster had been unable   
to find the two people he'd seen in his nightmare.   
  
He clearly wasn't looking forward to spending the summer with his   
Muggle relatives either. Hermione and Ron were trying hard to cheer him   
up, as was Sirius Black. The huge dog had energetically played tug-o-war   
with bits of food, causing a lot of laughter at the Gryffindor table.  
At least they'd gotten him to smile and relax a bit.  
  
Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy had been quiet and   
withdrawn. His father's recent mishap with tainted polyjuice potion was   
a likely cause, though Draco didn't know the details. All the boy knew   
was that his father was "ill" again. Feeling sympathy for Lucius Malfoy   
was quite beyond me, but I felt badly for Draco.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle had seemed at a loss as to what to do for him.   
The pair of them had looked gratefully at Pansy, who was at least able   
to coax a smile or two from Draco. Draco had said nothing to me. But,   
when he'd seen me studying him, he had given me a very solemn nod.  
  
*******  
  
I chose not to use a Door to go directly from Hagrid's cabin to   
the Owlery with the completed forms, now sealed in a large envelope. The   
exercise would do me good. However, I did wait to catch my breath before   
I summoned black-and-yellow, stepping through the Owlery wall into the   
hospital wing.   
  
Poppy had told me not to overdo things. She'd wanted to have a   
look at me before she left, which she was planning to do today, as soon   
as possible. Hopefully she'd tell me that I could stop taking things   
easy.  
  
The Medi-witch was surrounded by a pile of bags and bundles. The   
pile kept getting smaller as various house-elves kept noisily appearing,   
picking up parcels and noisily disappearing, taking Poppy's things down   
to her carriage.  
  
In the midst of the confusion, Poppy was leaning over Sirius   
Black.  
  
The Animagus, in his human form, was sitting up on one of the beds   
while Poppy checked him over, using a strong Diagnostic spell.  
  
"You're still too thin," Poppy scolded him, waving her wand. A   
small packet detached itself from the pile of packages just before one   
of the elves could disappear with it.  
  
"Here. Some more of the herbs I've been giving you. Goldenseal and   
Astragalus. The doses are written down. Remember to eat enough, and try   
to eat sensibly! No more rats!"  
  
I shuddered.  
  
Black took the herbs and pocketed them, nodding absently. His   
thoughts were clearly speeding along the track towards London, with his   
godson.  
  
"Maybe, as Snuffles, you can look in on him while he's at home..."   
I said, trying to be comforting.  
  
"Those people haven't ever given Harry a home..." Black said. "But   
someday," his voice was both wistful and angry, "he will have a proper   
home. With me."  
  
The young wizard's sadness was palpable. Not knowing what to say,   
I didn't reply.  
  
Poppy patted his shoulder. "You'd better learn to look after   
yourself then. Or you'll never be able to keep up with that boy."   
  
Sirius smiled, as if Harry's ability to attract the more innocent   
forms of trouble (quite unintentionally, as I'd come to realize) was a   
*good* thing.  
  
After she'd given Black some more instructions, Poppy allowed him   
to get up. Then she beckoned to me.  
  
Her Diagnostic spell washed over me like a sunbeam.  
  
"You still need to take things easy," she told me. "Let the elves   
help you as much as possible. Don't glower at me, Argus. It's for their   
good, as well as yours. They miss having a Castle full of people to look   
after."  
  
Poppy Pomfrey is a good friend. We've known each other for years.   
Widowed, with grandchildren that she looks forward to taking on holiday   
for the summer, I hoped that she and her family would have a pleasant   
time, safely beyond the reach of anything Dark.  
  
I was about to acquiesce to her orders, with a sigh, when she gave   
me a smile that was fond and a touch mischievous.  
  
"Take good care of yourself, or Minerva will be quite cross with   
you."  
  
I would have loved to come up with some suitably sharp retort, but   
I was too busy blushing.  
  
It wasn't really being teased by Poppy that I minded so much. It   
was the fact that Sirius Black was standing there, grinning.  
  
*******  
  
A short while later, once we were both released by the medi-witch   
who went back to her packing, Black asked me for a quiet word. The   
Animagus spends most of his time in dog form. This was the first chance   
he'd really had to speak to me in two days.  
  
"Harry said that you took him through Godric's Door. He told me   
that he didn't get sick." The young wizard's tone made it an anxious   
question.  
  
"It's true. He was fine, at least when we went through the Door.   
The dream upset him badly, though," I said.  
  
Black frowned. "It's still upsetting him. Those people he saw are   
very well hidden. No one's found them yet. Dumbledore hasn't given up.   
And Harry's still trying to remember more."  
  
Again, I was at a loss for something to say. It was clear that   
Sirius hated not being able to protect his godson from the terrible   
visions. He ached to give Harry a home and he couldn't. He wanted to   
fight the boy's battles alongside him but he was a wanted man who was   
forced to hide instead. The pain inside Black was obvious.  
  
I thought of Severus, and the way that he ached and feared for   
Draco. The two boys' situations weren't the same at all, but Severus and   
Sirius's emotions were startlingly similar.(Not that I'd ever be brave   
or stupid enough to say such a thing aloud where either young wizard   
could hear me...)  
  
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" I asked. Black had been talking   
to me, but lost in thought, I hadn't heard him.  
  
"How about a shortcut? Take me out to the hippogriff paddock by   
Hagrid's cabin?" The Animagus asked, giving me a fainter version of his   
old devil-may-care grin.   
  
"Or," he said, impudently, "are you afraid that I might give   
Professor McGonagall some real competition and come out wide awake on   
all four feet?"  
  
I glowered at him, mostly because he seemed to expect it. I'd   
already decided to take him through the Door. At the very least, it   
might take his mind off poor Harry for a little while.  
  
"I was thinking that you could just grab me by an ear," Black   
continued, undaunted. "I'd rather not bite you again. You tasted   
terrible!"   
  
"Holding your ear isn't good enough," I said, shaking my head.   
"Maybe we can improvise a leash with some bandages?"  
  
Poppy was kind enough to stop packing long enough to help us make   
a good, strong leash out of bandages, which she strengthened with   
charms. Sirius Transfigured and we tied the leash around him, rather   
like a harness.  
  
With that taken care of, Poppy wished both of us a good summer,   
and took her leave. The house-elves had finished with her bundles.  
  
I summoned red-and-gold. The tapestry responded slowly, taking   
several minutes to arrive. It was puzzling; the Door had seemed rather   
exuberant to me for the past two days, but now it appeared to be moping.   
Its colors were looking particularly muddy and faded.  
  
"Poor thing," I thought, giving it a pat. "It must be missing the   
children, like the elves and Peeves always do..."  
  
(The wretched Poltergeist always misses the students so much   
during the summer that he goes off and sulks by himself for most of July   
and makes up for it by tormenting me mercilessly all the way through   
August.)  
  
Taking a deep breath and a good, strong grip on the Animagus's   
bandage-leash, I stepped into the tapestry with Sirius.  
  
It was like moving through waist deep water, through muddy swirls   
of red and gold. I caught hold of the dog's shaggy fur with my other   
hand for good measure.  
  
When we emerged in front of the hippogriff's paddock, Sirius   
promptly returned to his human form and lost consciousness. I lowered   
him to the ground carefully so he wouldn't hit his head.  
  
The hippogriff had been at ease, mismatched legs folded under him   
and wings neatly folded along his back. He was snacking on something   
small, reddish-brown and furry. It was hard to tell exactly what it was   
under all the blood. I tried not to shudder.   
  
Black's condition appeared to distress the hippogriff. Beaky rose   
and started stamping his taloned forefeet anxiously and pulling at his   
tether.  
  
"It's all right, Beaky..." I murmured, nervously. "He'll be on his   
feet in a moment..."  
  
Then I stared at the beast. Normally a pinkish roan color, the   
hippogriff seemed to have turned grey! Then I noticed that the   
strawberries-and-lemon scent of the glamour was absent...  
  
"Black!" I cried in a strangled voice. "He's a grey hippogriff!   
Just like the one that mauled Draco Malfoy..."  
  
"He's not `just like' that one. He IS that one..." Black said,   
woozily, untangling himself from the harness of bandages.   
  
"Whole thing wasn't Beaky's fault, really. Hagrid told the kids to   
be polite, didn't he? Don't worry, Filch, he's gentle as a lamb...   
aren't you, Buckbeak?"  
  
The Animagus tottered to his feet and climbed unsteadily into the   
paddock with the hippogriff, patting his beak affectionately.   
  
"The glamour was wearing off," he explained. "Time for me to renew   
it. Merlin's Beard, Filch, what's gotten into that tapestry of yours? I   
hope it wasn't something I did..."  
  
Red-and-gold, apparently too forlorn to hold itself up straight,   
was now drooping sadly over the paddock fence.  
  
"I'm sure it wasn't you," I assured him, patting the Door. "It's   
been acting very odd lately. Why don't you go into the Castle and have a   
nice rest," I told the Door.  
  
Still drooping, it vanished.  
  
I was about to say something else to Black, but the words died in   
my throat. Forgetting my anxiety over Buckbeak, I scrambled over the   
fence trying to get as close to the Animagus and the hippogriff as   
possible, for protection.  
  
A very huge dog had just ambled around the front of Hagrid's hut.   
A dog with three heads!!!  
  
"Er... that wouldn't happen to be Fluffy, would it?" Black asked   
me, wide-eyed.  
  
I nodded mutely.  
  
"Big, isn't he?" The Animagus said, in a remarkably calm voice. He   
was trying to hold onto Buckbeak. The hippogriff seemed determined to   
charge at the Cerberus.  
  
And Fluffy was headed straight for the paddock!  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER THREE  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Chapter Four will take longer than usual to appear, due to another   
family trip. This one isn't a camping trip! We'll be in a motel!! With a   
bathroom!!!  
  
Much of chapter four is already written in rough draft, so it shouldn't   
take me too long to finish it after we come back home. With luck, it   
should be uploaded sometime around the tenth of August.  
  
*****  
  
I got the idea of Poppy, married (with three sons), from Alchemine's   
wonderful story, "Evening Post." I've decided to make Poppy a widowed   
grandmother.  
  
Enfleurage: Thank you!!  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! I was just talking about you!! Glad that you're   
feeling better! I feel sorry for Albus too. He's a resilient person, but   
it's hard to be the one that everyone else always leans on.  
  
Yes, the Door was excited because Harry had gone through it.  
  
Moody is one of my favorites too.  
  
The idea of cat-Minerva happily purring away while Filch strokes her   
ears is so adorable!  
  
Gramayre: Thank you!! Yes, Harry's the Heir of Gryffindor!  
  
Larania: Thank you!! Yes, Harry will eventually, with practice, be able   
to use Godric's Door like Filch does.   
  
Voldemort isn't trying to make Squibs out of regular wizards, but he is   
trying to do something using Dark Magic based on the same principles as   
the Squib scrolls; one wizard tapping into the power of another. (He   
never actually got to see a Squib-scroll, but he wrung all the   
information he could out of Lucius.)  
  
Miriam: Thank you!! You're right, Filch does not like being a guinea   
pig. It brings back uncomfortable memories. He was studied a lot as a   
child.  
  
You're also right about Harry not needing Filch's help to go through   
Godric's Door a second time. Having been recognized, he'll encounter no   
resistance. Now all Godric's Door has to do is get the Heir's attention.   
It followed him around the Castle for two days waiting to be noticed and   
passed through again but Harry was tired, depressed and preoccupied. Now   
Harry is gone for the summer and the tapestry is moping.  
  
In Harry's defense, the Door did not make enough of an effort to be   
noticed. It stayed on the walls. It should have danced around in mid-air   
or dropped from above down onto poor unsuspecting Harry's head. Or it   
should have tried to get Ron's attention, or Hermione's or Sirius   
Black's. It didn't do any of those things.   
  
In the Door's defense, it was very much in awe of the Heir. Filch   
doesn't inspire awe in the tapestries, he's much too comfortable and   
familiar. Red-and-gold isn't too shy to rub up against Argus like a   
happy cat (a behavior that the Door picked up from Mrs. Norris,) but it   
wouldn't do that to Harry.   
  
Salazar's Door had similar problems after Tom Riddle first fell through   
it by accident. Riddle eventually went through the Door again but he   
never fully understood what the Door was or what it was for.   
  
In Tommy-boy's defense, he didn't know that anything like the Doors   
existed.  
  
The Founders deliberately did not make it easy for their Heirs. The   
Doors are tools that have to be earned.  
  
Blue Moon: Thank you!! Poor Dumbledore. It's lonely at the top. He does   
need someone to comfort him.  
  
Pendragon: Thank you!! Yes! Godric's Door was happy because Harry is   
Godric's Heir!! Now, the poor thing is pining because Harry won't be   
back until September.  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!! Harry doesn't know that he's Godric's Heir,   
but Dumbledore did notice that Harry came through the Door without   
having the typical reaction.   
  
The Headmaster can make an educated guess as to why. Albus chose not to   
discuss the subject with Harry, because both of them are dealing with a   
lot at the moment.  
  
There are aspects to Harry's relationship with the Door that he may not   
be too comfortable with. The Doors each chose to befriend Filch out of   
loneliness and a wish to be useful to someone. Filch always asks them to   
do things, he never commands them.   
  
But the bond between Door and Heir is more like that of a devoted   
servant and its master. Harry does have the right to command red-and-  
gold.  
  
For example, there are places within the Castle that "belong" to only   
one of the Four Founders. (Helga's Door is the only one that can find   
Helga's Workroom. Filch would never even consider asking the other three   
to go there.)   
  
If Harry's need was great enough, he could command Godric's Door to find   
the private sanctuaries of the other three Founders. Completing such a   
journey would be very difficult and require considerable force of will,   
but Harry's proven his strength many times over.   
  
Of course, Harry doesn't know about the hidden sanctuaries. Salazar's   
Chamber was the only one that made it into popular legend. Stories about   
the others are buried in old books and forgotten by almost everyone.   
  
Snape and Azoth will show up in a later chapter. "Find the right way to   
pat them and they're yours for life..." that's so cute!! And so true!!  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! Going through the other three Doors would make   
Harry sick. A bit sicker than another witch or wizard his age would   
ordinarily get. (This is the "`Hey, Use Your Own Door!' Effect,"   
applicable only to the Heir of each Founder.)  
  
Filch is consciously avoiding taking anyone through the Door of a   
different House. He just has a bad feeling about it. Moody, who respects   
Filch's gut feelings, has a theory about a "Wrong Door Effect." Now he   
just has to find someone reckless enough to harass Filch into to taking   
him or her through another House's Door.  
  
It really wouldn't be so bad for most children. They'd be sick for a few   
minutes longer. But an adult witch or wizard would be sick for a few   
*days* longer. And for Snape,(or anyone else with a Dark Mark) the Wrong   
Door Effect would be swiftly and messily fatal.  
  
Moody will have to wait until next September before he can start   
experimenting with Harry and Godric's Door. Harry will have to learn   
everything a little bit at a time, like Filch is doing. Godric's Door   
intends to be VERY noticeable the next time it meets up with Harry.   
  
Elektra: Thank you!! Yes, the Doors are all very fond of Filch. They   
were lonely and forgotten for centuries after their Founders were gone.   
  
Helga's Door was the first one to notice Filch and become "keyed" to   
him. Salazar's Door was the last. During Filch's early years at the   
Castle, green-and-silver was still pining inconsolably for Tom Riddle,   
who had left Hogwarts without seeing the Door as anything more than a   
convenient shortcut into the dungeons. Riddle never learned to Call   
Salazar's Door.  
  
Sirius won't mind Harry's experimenting as much if he can accompany his   
godson. Harry can help him build up his resistance to the Black   
Effect...  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Dumbledore's dock is based on a dock at the   
campground where I went with my writing-notebook. I like thinking of the   
Doors as cats too! (Very strange, flat, rectangular cats.) Yes, I was so   
relieved when the document manager finally worked!! I nearly hugged my   
computer screen.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! I agree that Dumbledore really needs to get   
out once in a while. It's relaxing to sit by a lake at night and look at   
the stars.  
  
Ryven: Thank you!! "The Pup" will eventually return the favor and refer   
to Minerva as "The Moggie." (Or should that be spelled `Moggy?') Sirius   
will say "Professor McMoggie" when he wants to be respectful. Snape will   
just sneer at this sort of banter.  
  
Minerva: Admit it, Severus, you're upset because you didn't call him   
that first.   
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Eventually, (hopefully) I will have a story that   
explains who Voldemort's prisoners are and what they have in common,   
which is the thing that Voldemort wants from them.   
  
Snape will definitely have a reaction to Harry's lack of reaction.  
  
Dialin: Thank you!! 


	4. Guard Dog

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to Squib Puppet  
Chapter Four: Guard Dog  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Buckbeak was greatly agitated; screeching, rearing up onto his   
equine back legs and straining violently at his tether. Black changed   
his mind about holding onto the hippogriff. Instead he used his wand to   
blast the tether, so that Beaky could escape.   
  
"Oh, that's just fine!" I thought snidely as Beaky soared over our   
heads. "Save the bloody hippogriff!"  
  
The young wizard's attempt to protect Buckbeak was futile. The   
winged monster seemed unwilling to abandon the Animagus. Instead of   
flying away, Beaky dove at the advancing Cerberus!  
  
Sirius is a powerful wizard. Though, after spending so much time   
as a dog, he's evidently more accustomed to fighting with his teeth than   
he is to fighting with a wand. He Transfigured.   
  
"Wait!" I shouted, summoning red-and-gold back again. I meant to   
grab the Animagus and pull him through the Door to safety. Perhaps   
Buckbeak would fly away if Sirius was no longer in danger. But it was   
already too late. The hippogriff had just been knocked down and was   
lying stunned on the ground at the huge dog's feet. Sirius made a mighty   
leap, clearing the paddock fence.  
  
The Animagus ran at the Cerberus, growling, preventing Fluffy from   
injuring Beaky.  
  
"No!" I yelled, helplessly. "You idiot!! You'll be torn to   
pieces!!"   
  
Fluffy is the only dog I've ever seen who makes Snuffles look   
small. The Animagus didn't have to face the Cerberus alone. Buckbeak   
staggered upright, still groggy, but screeching and flashing its talons.  
  
With my attention focused on the monsters, I didn't see Hagrid   
until the big man was right in the middle of the melee. The half-giant's   
roaring voice boomed over all the screeching, snarling and growling.  
  
"YEH TRY'N CATCH BEAKY, AN' I'LL HOLD ON TER FLUFFY!" Hagrid   
shouted at the Animagus.  
  
Buckbeak managed to get airborne again. Fluffy leaped into the air   
after the hippogriff, all three sets of jaws snapping. Catching the   
Cerberus in mid-leap, Hagrid grabbed the creature's massive body. He   
used his considerable strength and Fluffy's own momentum to flip the dog   
onto its back.  
  
Even as the mighty crash shook the ground, Black resumed his human   
form. Dodging slashing talons to keep Beaky away from the downed   
Cerberus, he jumped and caught the creature around its glossy feathered   
neck.  
  
"Easy Beaky, easy..." the Animagus crooned soothingly, though his   
voice was hoarse from the snarling and growling he'd done.  
  
"Easy now, Fluffy... there's a good lad..." Hagrid's voice had   
softened to a much gentler rumble.  
  
The half-giant continued to keep the Cerberus pinned to the ground   
while the Animagus caught the broken end of the tether and coaxed Beaky   
back towards the paddock.   
  
Scrambling to open the gate, I helped to hold Beaky still while   
Black used a spell to repair the tether. Once that was done, he   
restrained the hippogriff once more.  
  
All of them, men and monsters, were bleeding. Ignoring their own   
wounds, Black and Hagrid checked the beasts over carefully. They didn't   
seem too disturbed by anything they found. I hoped that meant their   
hurts were fairly superficial. A good thing too, since Poppy had just   
left and I wouldn't have known what to do if any of them were seriously   
damaged.  
  
Weak with relief, I sagged against the paddock fence.  
  
"Thank you for coming back..." I said to red-and-gold. The   
tapestry had become a little less droopy. Responding to my call had   
perked it up a bit.  
  
"Sorry. It was jus' bad timing..." Hagrid was saying to Black. "I   
didn't know that the two of yeh would be here with Beaky. I was planning   
ter introduce 'em nice and quiet-like. But Beaky was trying ter protect   
yeh..."  
  
He sighed. "After we let 'em settle down fer a while, will yeh   
help me try 'em again?"  
  
Black nodded, proving once again that Gryffindors have no sense of   
self-preservation.  
  
"Hagrid...?" I said, quietly, not wanting to yell or do anything   
that might set the monsters off once more, "what is that ...dog doing   
back here?"  
  
Hagrid beamed at me. "Why, Fluffy's here ter help yeh, a'course!"  
  
"H-Help me?" I wheezed.   
  
"Sure. Did yeh think Dumbledore an' I'd leave yeh ter guard the   
Castle an' grounds all alone? Things being what they are?"  
  
My jaw dropped open in shock.  
  
I'd already promised to look after Fang for Hagrid. I wasn't   
pleased about it, really, but Mrs. Norris and I could manage Fang. Did   
Hagrid actually intend to leave me to cope with FLUFFY as well???   
  
For a moment or two I just stared, hoping that he was joking.   
Instead the oaf continued to beam as if he'd just given me the most   
wonderful surprise ever.  
  
Biting back an incoherent howl of astonishment, disbelief and   
fury, I turned away from the barking mad Gryffindors and their monsters   
and stormed through red-and-gold.  
  
"Maybe this wasn't the best moment to give him the good news," I   
heard Black say wryly, as I disappeared through the Door.  
  
*******  
  
"Headmaster, you can't be serious!!!" I wailed. "You're letting   
that thing... that beast... roam the grounds all summer? Without Hagrid,   
who's going to stop it from tearing my legs off? And who will stop it   
from tearing up the Quidditch pitch and all the bushes and flowers and   
whole stands of trees? What's to stop it from getting loose and wreaking   
havoc in Hogsmeade? Unless you mean for me to allow it to roam inside   
the Castle, which would be unthinkable!!"  
  
I paused to gasp for breath, and another horrible thought struck   
me.   
  
"Medusa's Dugs! There'll be vast, reeking mountains of dung   
everywhere! I'll be the only one here to clean up after it! Ohh, it's   
not fair... the last straw... I won't stand for it... I won't...!"  
  
Dumbledore said nothing since he wouldn't have been able to get a   
word in edgewise anyhow, unless he used magic to shut me up.   
  
Instead he let me go on until I'd ranted myself into exhaustion.   
Eventually he handed me a cup, filled with something that I assumed was   
water. I gulped it down and choked. It was Ogdens Firewhiskey.  
  
I did the only sensible thing that I could do under the   
circumstances. I held out the cup for a refill.  
  
*******  
  
The second cup went down a lot more smoothly. I collapsed into a   
chair, listening as the Headmaster spoke to me in the same sort of low,   
gentle, soothing voice that Hagrid and Black had been using to calm   
Beaky and Fluffy.  
  
"Hagrid told you the truth, Argus. Fluffy is here for your aid and   
protection," Dumbledore said. "Hagrid has a week left before he is   
scheduled to leave. He will be able to make the Cerberus understand what   
is expected of him. Rest assured, Fluffy will not harm you."  
  
"As for the trees, plants, flowerbeds and bushes," the Headmaster   
continued, "Professor Sprout is placing strong protective charms around   
them. Madam Hooch is taking similar measures to preserve the Quidditch   
pitch."  
  
"And I," he told me, "have placed charms around the boundaries of   
the Castle grounds to prevent the Cerberus from straying into   
Hogsmeade."   
  
"You've been understandably anxious about being here alone," the   
Headmaster said, even more gently. "You have never had to bear the   
responsibility for such a length of time. Hagrid has always been here   
with you in the summer."  
  
"Last year..." I started to protest,  
  
"Last year," he reminded me, "I remained at the Castle for an   
unusual amount of time. When I could not be here, Minerva came. Filius   
was here when neither of us were available. This year, the situation has   
changed."  
  
"Worsened..." I said, miserably.  
  
"Yes, for the most part," he said, sounding tired. "Minerva,   
Filius, all of us... we have much work to do elsewhere, beyond the   
Castle."  
  
My first thought then, was for Minerva. I was overcome by a wave   
of fear for her. It was foolish, I knew, as she'd always been able to   
take care of herself quite well, plus any number of other people   
besides.   
  
I didn't care if my fears were foolish. Nothing must ever happen   
to her...  
  
"Argus, not every situation has changed for the worse," the   
Headmaster told me. "There is a good reason why I feel that you do not   
need any of us to stay."  
  
I knew what he was going to do before he did it. Wandless, he   
reached out with his magic, touching a vast, slumbering inhuman   
presence.  
  
His touch was so deft that the Castle did not wake. He knew as   
well as I did that attracting the Castle's attention is almost always   
very painful, not ever a thing to be done lightly.   
  
(Abruptly, a new thought occurred to me, as I pondered the   
Hogwarts motto. Was the sleeping dragon that the Founders had warned   
against tickling an actual dragon or a metaphor for something else that   
was even bigger and more terrible...?)   
  
"Caretaker," Dumbledore said, quietly, bringing my mind back to   
the present. "You know, Argus, there have been caretakers here, and   
Caretakers, if you know what I mean. And headmasters and Headmasters..."  
  
Dumbledore's connection to the Castle was palpable. I could feel   
Its link with him resonating through my own bond. And there seemed to be   
a third bonding... incomplete as of yet, but the potential was there.  
  
"Groundskeepers and groundskeepers," Dumbledore continued, smiling   
at my suddenly wide-eyed expression. "Yes, it shouldn't be too much   
longer before Hagrid gets himself Noticed. It's a bit more complicated   
for him. His connection with the wild magic in the Forest is so strong   
that it may muffle the Castle's `voice.'"  
  
"But, sir," I asked, "can't we just TELL him?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "There are some things that one must   
discover on one's own, Argus."  
  
"Speaking of which," he said, "let's go see how they're managing   
at Hagrid's cabin, shall we?"  
  
*******  
  
The Headmaster and I found things under control at Hagrid's hut.   
Hagrid and Black had patched the monsters up, washing their assorted   
bites and gashes clean of blood and bandaging their worst wounds.  
  
Buckbeak, minus a few feathers, but not looking too much the worse   
for wear, was in his paddock around the back of Hagrid's cabin. The   
Animagus had restored the glamour, and Beaky was a pinkish-roan   
hippogriff once more. Hagrid had comforted Buckbeak with another pile of   
what looked like either dead stoats or weasels; it was difficult to   
tell.  
  
Now, Dumbledore was seated on Hagrid's front steps, with Black (in   
dog form) resting at his feet. The Headmaster was gently cleaning a   
bloody wound on Black's left ear.  
  
Fang lay sprawled and sleeping beside the Animagus. With bright,   
interested eyes, Black and the Headmaster watched Hagrid introducing me   
to the Castle's new guard dog.   
  
"All righ', Fluffy?" The big man asked gently, patting the   
Cerberus with a bandaged hand. "See, Filch here needs yeh ter look after   
him. An' yeh'll be helping him ter keep the Castle safe..."  
  
Hagrid's abilities with monsters have always impressed me. Much as   
I dislike admitting this, the oaf does have the makings of a really fine   
Care of Magical Creatures teacher.  
  
Some day Hagrid will finally realize that most people are honestly   
terrified of creatures like Fluffy. Then I shall be forced to start   
treating him with the same deference and respect that I reserve for the   
other professors at this school.  
  
That day has not yet arrived. Hagrid was patient with his   
Cerberus, but he was exasperated with me.  
  
"Yeh don't have ter be so scared, Filch," the big man sighed.   
"Yeh've got nothing ter fear. Fluffy's met yeh before, and he knows that   
yeh're not a thief. Relax."  
  
Impossible! He might just as well ask me to kiss a Dementor! I   
stood trembling in front of Hagrid while Fluffy sniffed me with all   
three noses.  
  
Then I received moral support from an unexpected source as Mrs.   
Norris joined our gathering. Meowing loudly, she leaped into my arms and   
climbed onto my shoulder. My cat and the Cerberus are old friends.  
  
Immediately Mrs. Norris and I were engulfed by a wave of foul   
breath as Fluffy's middle head licked both of us with a massive tongue.  
  
"Eurgh!" I choked, gagging as I wiped rivulets of hot drool out of   
my eyes. Mrs. Norris leaped to the ground and began giving herself a   
dainty but purposeful bath.  
  
"See? He likes Mrs. Norris, an' yeh'r with her so that makes yeh   
all righ' too," Hagrid said, beaming. He handed me an enormous sack,   
filled with huge doggy-treats. "Here. Give him a few a' these."  
  
Trying not to cringe, I did as he instructed. Tossing the treats   
into Fluffy's mouths wasn't too bad. I could do that from a distance.  
  
Glancing around as I dodged some flying drool, I noticed to my   
alarm that the Animagus seemed to have sprouted a pair of golden eyes in   
the middle of his back. Then I realized that Azoth, Severus Snape's   
small black cat, must have followed his mother out of the Castle. The   
tiny cat had draped himself across Snuffles' back and was blending in so   
well that only his eyes were visible.  
  
Azoth looked as amused as everyone else did.  
  
"Yeh've made a good start, Filch," Hagrid told me, kindly, as he   
took the sack from me.  
  
Grateful to be released, I picked up Mrs. Norris. My cat regarded   
me with some disapproval, as I was covered with drool.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Hagrid said, happily. "Fluffy an' I   
have got summat ter show yeh! He's been workin' hard. Watch!"  
  
Pulling a wooden flute from one of his pockets and raising it to   
his lips, the big man began to play a soft, soothing tune.  
  
The head on the right became a bit droopy-eyed and started to   
yawn. The center head quickly gave it a nudge to wake it up. When the   
center head yawned and drooped, one of the others gave it a nudge. The   
head on the right didn't even yawn.   
  
The dog listened to the whole song and then, wide awake, barked   
for an encore. Both Hagrid and Dumbledore were as pleased as if the   
Cerberus had gotten up and danced.   
  
"Excellent! Well done..." Dumbledore beamed and conjured up some   
more doggy treats for the Cerberus.  
  
"That'll be a shock fer anyone who thinks they know an easy way   
ter get past him..." Hagrid said, with satisfaction.  
  
*******  
  
Both Dumbledore and Hagrid wanted me to learn to be more relaxed   
around Fluffy.  
  
Obediently, I agreed to take the Cerberus for a stroll around the   
Castle grounds. The dog was a massive, shadowy presence looming over me   
as I wandered aimlessly towards the lake.  
  
I was actually starting to get used to the situation. Perhaps even   
starting to feel calm with the monster at my back, when the sound of   
barking shattered the late afternoon stillness.  
  
It wasn't Fluffy who was making all the noise, it was Snuffles.   
The Animagus was racing uphill towards the Castle, barking a frantic   
warning. When I saw who he was trying to warn away from Fluffy I felt   
anything but calm.  
  
Severus Snape was coming down the hill towards us.  
  
"Yeh've nothing ter fear," Hagrid had reassured me. "Yeh've met   
Fluffy before. He knows yeh're not a thief."  
  
But, the poor Potions Master could be offered no such   
reassurances...  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER FOUR  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Fluffy looked way too huge in the movie for even Hagrid to toss around   
in the way I've described, but (using my son's Fluffy and Hagrid action   
figures for reference) I decided that it was plausible. It's nice of my   
son to let me play with his toys...  
  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Filch would deny that he's getting civilized.   
He's just really bored. (Hagrid will get the filing cabinet for   
Christmas, even though he's just as likely to use it as a hutch for some   
form of animal.)  
  
I loved your comment about Sirius courting Trouble, and her sisters!   
It's so true.  
  
It's easy to imagine Peeves pining for the students. With the Castle   
empty there's not enough people for him to pick on...  
  
Fluffy and Beaky will eventually be friends. Beaky attacked the Cerberus   
because he was protecting Sirius. And Filch too, though Argus doesn't   
realize it.  
  
Richan: Thank you!! Salazar's Door adored Tom Riddle, the human, mortal   
wizard and Heir of Slytherin. But when Lord Voldemort began to change,   
seeking immortality, he lost his bond with the Door. Now his reaction to   
a trip through Salazar's Door would be even more painful than Snape's.  
  
(Salazar Slytherin may have been intolerant of Muggle-born wizards, but   
I still think that he would have disapproved of Voldemort.)  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! The reunion between Harry and Godric's Door   
will happen in a later story. The poor Door is doomed to pine for him in   
this one.  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Befriending the Doors is a "Filch" thing. The four   
Doors actually exceeded their "programming" (to borrow a Muggle term)   
when they adopted him. After so many centuries of being forgotten and   
feeling useless, they were longing to be of use to someone.   
  
The Doors would not harm Callandra, but they are not keyed to her.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! We may hear more about the children's summer   
vacations in a later story. This one is only going to cover the very   
start of summer.  
  
I've had fun imagining scenes where Filch sees Harry with the Dursleys,   
but haven't figured out how to work such a scene into a story yet. Filch   
would be appalled if he ever saw how the Dursleys treat Harry. On the   
other hand, the ancient and powerful magic that Dumbledore used to make   
Harry safe from Voldemort while he's in the Dursleys'(so-called) care   
would be obvious to Filch too. He would understand why Harry needs to   
stay with his blood relations, even if it's not a good situation.  
  
RADKA: Thank you!! Letting Voldie actually win a battle is an idea in   
the back of my mind at the moment.  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! Yes, I can also see some students taking a   
voluntary trip through a Door (blindfolded) to avoid an even worse   
detention. "I can either agree to test a spell for you, be sick for   
about ten minutes and be on my way, or scrub bedpans for several hours?   
Hmm."   
  
Minerva would share Filch's and Poppy's disapproval of using the Doors   
to punish students, she was very quick to rescue Draco-the-ferret.  
  
Your thoughts on Harry and the Door had me on the floor laughing! This   
is actually close to some of what I had pictured. ("Why am I being   
attacked by a flying carpet?" Harry wondered, scratching his head in   
bewilderment.) He won't realize that it's Filch's Door until he tries to   
go for a ride and keeps falling through and ending up in various rooms   
all over the Castle.)  
  
Larania: Filch (and Harry) will eventually learn that the Door was   
pining for Harry, and why.   
  
Yes, the Castle can defend its inhabitants in many ways, with various   
tools at its disposal. Filch isn't a Heir but as Caretaker, he's   
considered one of the Castle's `tools.'  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Fluffy and Beaky hadn't had a chance to meet   
before. Things would have been a bit calmer if Beaky hadn't been   
protective. 


	5. The Cerberus and the Potions Master

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to Squib Puppet  
Chapter Five: The Cerberus and the Potions Master  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
  
Severus has often said that he isn't one for "foolish wand   
waving." His technique might be more accurately described as "brutally   
efficient."   
  
The Potions Master knew that it would have been useless for him to   
attempt to completely paralyze a creature as large as Fluffy. Instead,   
he cast three localized "Petrificus" spells in very rapid succession.   
Both of Fluffy's front legs and the dog's left head went stiff and numb.  
  
Doubtless, Severus would have tried to paralyze the other two   
heads next. Unfortunately for him, Fluffy is faster than any creature   
his size has a right to be. The monster had already nearly reached   
Professor Snape when the first three spells took effect.   
  
The dead weight of the numbed left head pulled Fluffy off balance.   
Unable to catch himself on his paralyzed front legs, the huge dog   
collapsed, nearly falling on top of Severus who was unable to get out of   
the way in time.  
  
Needless to say, Fluffy's right and center heads were not very   
happy with Professor Snape.  
  
Sirius Black, who had Transfigured to his human form, grabbed the   
snarling middle head, wrapping his arms around its slobbering jaws   
before it could use Snape for a chew toy.  
  
"NO, FLUFFY, NO! Easy, boy...!" the Animagus shouted, trying to   
calm the furious monster.  
  
Without meaning to, I was making his task more difficult. I was   
clinging to the growling right head and yelling, "STOP THAT!! BAD DOG!!!   
BAD DOG!!!!"  
  
"Quiet, Filch! He's NOT a bad dog..." the Animagus said through   
gritted teeth as both of us were dragged about by the struggling heads.   
"He's just doing his job, isn't he? Leave him to me! You get Snape away   
from him, quickly, before he's crushed!"  
  
Black was right. Fluffy was panicked by his inability to move   
parts of his body. The Cerberus was thrashing about, desperately moving   
whatever still worked. I let go of the right head and dodged around   
Black. When Fluffy raised his body a bit, I grabbed the dazed Potions   
Master under the arms.  
  
If Snape been anyone else, I might have taken him through a Door.   
As bad as the effects would be for most adult wizards, it was still   
better than being torn to pieces by an angry Cerberus. But that escape   
route was denied to Severus. All I could do was try to drag him to a   
safe distance.  
  
Poor Snape gasped in pain when I moved him, wrapping his left arm   
around his ribs. His wand was still in his right hand. And he still had   
the wand pointed at Fluffy.  
  
Any injury that does not completely incapacitate the Potions   
Master will only make him angry, and more dangerous. Snape cast a strong   
leg-locker curse on Fluffy's back legs. Both the right and center heads   
howled even more deafeningly than before.  
  
"You GIT!" Black bellowed at Snape, through the terrified howls.   
"Why...?"  
  
"So you can get away! IDIOT!" Snape shouted, clutching at his   
ribs.  
  
"And, if I get away, who's to keep him from going after you?"   
Black roared back.   
  
Fluffy appeared to be regaining the use of his front legs now. He   
was dragging himself relentlessly towards Snape, pulling the Animagus   
with him.  
  
Poor Black couldn't hold the creature for long. And Severus was   
unable to run. Maybe I couldn't take *him* through a Door but I'd never   
had any trouble bringing animals with me...   
  
Of course, I had only ever tried this with Mrs. Norris and her   
kittens. A creature Fluffy's size would be a good deal trickier.  
  
"I really hope you're up to this," I muttered, summoning red-and-  
gold.  
  
*******  
  
The Door was big enough, but only just. I wouldn't have been able   
to manage if Black hadn't helped to hold the beast relatively still   
while I brought the Door to him. It was not an easy task. Both of us   
were left covered with drool and a number of bruises. And only Black's   
quickness saved us from being bitten.  
  
"I'd rather break up another fight between Fluffy and *Beaky!*"   
the Animagus commented, as Fluffy and I vanished into Godric's Door.   
  
Sirius did not come with us through the Door, so my journey with   
the Cerberus was instantaneous. We tumbled through the tapestry, to land   
on the ground in front of Hagrid's hut.  
  
Thanking red-and-gold, I tried to comfort the Cerberus. Removed   
from Snape's presence, the monster's rage left him quickly enough,   
though his fear and confusion remained.   
  
Fluffy had now regained complete movement in his front legs and   
his left head. But he would need a countercurse to free his locked-up   
hind legs.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, Fluffy!" I said, standing up so I could pat   
each whimpering head. "I shouldn't have told you that you were a bad   
dog! But I couldn't let you hurt Professor Snape, could I? At least not   
any more than you've already hurt him."  
  
All three heads looked at me, reproachfully.  
  
"Yes, I know that you're not exactly unscathed yourself. Poor   
creature... I can't undo that curse for you. Maybe Hagrid can."  
  
Our arrival hadn't exactly been a quiet one. Hagrid was already   
rushing out of his hut, followed by Fang.  
  
The big man soothed the whimpering Cerberus while I described what   
had happened.  
  
"The Headmaster sent a message 'round ter all the Professors who   
haven't left yet, ter let 'em know abou' Fluffy. Guess Professor Snape   
hasn't read his yet," Hagrid said, frowning as he tried to work a   
countercurse with the broken wand inside his umbrella.   
  
"It's no good. This curse is too strong. Professor Snape is going   
ter have ter come here and undo this himself!"  
  
*******  
  
Hagrid, Black and I all held onto the Cerberus tightly, while   
Snape undid his Curse. Fluffy stood still enough, though the massive   
creature quivered with anger and growled menacingly at the Potions   
Master with all three heads.  
  
Severus flatly refused to feed Fluffy dog-biscuits, or to get   
close enough for the beast to sniff at him.  
  
"There would be no point," the Potions Master said, stiffly.  
  
"You're right," Black told Snape. "Fluffy *isn't* going to trust   
you. You've done your best to make sure of that, haven't you? The best   
we can hope for is to get him to tolerate you, barely, when you're with   
either Filch or Hagrid."  
  
"He doesn't have ter trust yeh. Jus' got ter get used ter yeh! So   
he won't rip yehr legs off next time!" Hagrid said, gruffly.  
  
"It'll be all righ' Professor. I won't let him attack yeh."  
  
Snape sighed then he winced. He'd insisted that he didn't need to   
let anyone have a look at his ribs, assuring us that nothing felt   
broken.  
  
"No!" he repeated. Then, his glare changed to a look of horror as   
he snarled,  
  
"Azoth! You brainless hairball! Get away from that beast!"  
  
Tiny black Azoth had been lurking unseen in the shadows beside   
Hagrid's front steps. Now, as fearless as his mother, the little cat   
stalked impudently up to the Cerberus and rubbed up against the   
monster's right foreleg.  
  
"That creature spits out morsels bigger than you are!" Snape   
hissed furiously, glowering at his cat.   
  
"What are you waiting for?" The Potions Master demanded, skewering   
the Animagus, the half-giant and me with an extension of the same   
glower. "One of you, grab him! Quickly!"  
  
Sympathetic to Snape's fear (an emotion which I knew he would have   
utterly denied feeling, insisting instead that he was merely angry at   
Azoth's recklessness,) I moved to obey.  
  
"Don't, Filch," Hagrid said, stopping me. "Azoth's alrigh.' See?"  
  
All of Fluffy's three heads had lowered to sniff at the little   
cat. Azoth accepted the attention, regally. Even a lick from the left   
head's massive tongue, which left him dripping.  
  
"Look Professor. He's acting as a character reference fer yeh.   
Now, if yeh'd just come over..."  
  
"No." Snape said, sharply. He didn't take his eyes off Azoth and   
the three huge heads. "My association with the foolish cat might just as   
easily turn the Cerberus against Azoth. I would prefer that the little   
bile-black demon remain safe during his wanderings around the grounds."  
  
In a quieter voice, the Potions Master said, "I dislike having to   
point out what should be obvious, even to the three of you. Having that   
Cerberus get too used to me would not be in our best interests. Lying to   
the Dark Lord is never wise. Since I prefer not to do so any more than   
necessary, I would rather be able to say, honestly, that I cannot pass   
the monster with impunity."  
  
My eyes widened. This was a point that I'd never considered. But   
Black and Hagrid seemed to have expected this comment from Severus. They   
exchanged a wry glance. After a moment, Hagrid said almost gently,  
  
"It's in yehr best interest, isn't it, Professor? And Filch's too,   
since he's the one that's going ter have ter call Fluffy off whenever   
yeh drop by during the summer."  
  
That was another point that I hadn't considered. I gave Snape a   
pleading look.  
  
Snape glared at me.  
  
"Yeh still won't be safe from Fluffy on yehr own, so yeh really   
won't be lyin' ter the Dark Lord." Hagrid said.  
  
Snape sighed, wincing as his ribs gave him another twinge. "All   
right," he said, grimly. "If Filch will pick up Azoth first, then I'll   
come over there."  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER FIVE  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
Heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed the ficlet "Squib Wizard: To   
Comfort Gehenna!" Jelsemium, Ariana Deralte, Demeter, Lizard of Fire,   
AET and aniwda!  
  
I'm fond of the Slytherins, and agree with those who don't like to see   
them portrayed as a house full of villains and Death Eaters in training.   
Snape's protecting Harry from Quirrel during Harry's first year because   
of his debt to James speaks volumes to me about Slytherin honor.   
  
  
Notes for Chapter Four of "Squib Caretaker:"   
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Beaky and Fluffy will eventually become quite   
comfortable with each other. Whether Snape and Fluffy will ever do the   
same remains to be seen.  
  
There may be some hints about what the other teachers are doing during   
the summer. They'll be visiting with their families and going on   
holiday, but many of them will also be working against Voldemort.  
  
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! No, you didn't mention Inu yet... he sounds   
cute! Snape doesn't have pleasant memories of Fluffy and Fluffy doesn't   
have pleasant memories of Snape either.  
  
Blue Moon: Thank you!! Fluffy definitely thinks that Snape is scarier   
than he is.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! Ideas for Filch meeting the Dursleys are still   
churning around in my brain.  
  
Aniwda: Thank you!! Round three next chapter.  
  
Quoth the Raven: Thank you!! Actually Snape WAS looking for Azoth.   
Though he's not going to admit it. Snape would rather have Fluffy   
continue to mistrust him (for several reasons) then endanger Azoth by   
the little cat's association with him.  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!!  
  
Cassandra Cassidy: Thank you!! I have given some thought to each   
Founder's private Sanctuary but I don't know when or if they will show   
up in a story. We've already seen Helga's Workroom. Rowena had a   
Library. Godric had an Exercise room, (though it was equally suitable   
for meditation.) And Salazar had more than one Chamber. Like the first   
Chamber, the second is only accessible to a Parselmouth. Even green-and-  
silver won't take anyone all the way there. To get past the last few   
"traps" one must be able to talk to snakes. The second Chamber's   
guardian isn't a Basilisk, it's another rather bizarre snake that I once   
saw in a nightmare.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! My sons have the Harry Potter game, which   
gave me the idea about Fluffy learning to stay awake.  
  
AET: Thank you!! Filch, after seeing Snape go head to heads with Fluffy,   
would say that some Slytherins also lack a sense of self-preservation.   
Slytherins are just better at coming up with plausible excuses to   
explain why their "calculated risks" are completely understandable and   
perfectly reasonable.  
  
Minnowgirl: Thank you!! Sirius and Severus would both deny that they are   
coming to an accommodation, but they are. They're fun to write,   
especially when they're being "prickly" at each other.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, Argus does, in his own way, require handling   
as tricky as any of Hagrid's monsters.   
  
Fluffy remembers that Snape did try to get past him once, and that Snape   
used magic on him that HURT! (I figure that Snape must have used some   
sort of Curse to escape with nothing worse than a mangled leg in the   
first book. Not the leg-locker curse, though, because he didn't want to   
incapacitate the Stone's guardian.) Fluffy doesn't remember Harry, Ron   
and Hermione with the same anger, because the children didn't use spells   
that caused him pain.  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! I agree that it's not healthy for Sirius to spend   
so much time as a dog. But he does have to be careful who sees him, even   
inside the Castle. It wasn't just the students he had to worry about...   
there's the portraits too. The Fat Lady would NOT be glad to see him if   
she ever saw him in his human form.   
  
Fluffy tried to chew some Snape again. But the Potions Master isn't so   
easily defeated. I enjoyed the photos!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! 


	6. A Truce, Wild Magic, and a Kiss

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Six: A Truce, Wild Magic and a Kiss  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"It might be easier if yeh'd try to relax a bit, Professor,"   
Hagrid said, gruffly.  
  
Severus Snape did not reply. He waited, tense as a bowstring,   
while Hagrid's Cerberus regarded him with six ferocious eyes. All three   
of Fluffy's heads were growling. The low rumbling sound made my bones   
rattle.   
  
Side by side, Hagrid and Snape faced Fluffy, standing as close to   
the monster as the gamekeeper thought it was safe for Severus to be. The   
Potions Master was much smaller than the half-giant and the Cerberus.   
But Snape was unintimidated, his head was held high and his dark eyes   
were fierce.   
  
"The Professor belongs at the Castle," the Keeper of the Keys   
said, simply and firmly. "If yeh see him with Filch, or with me, yeh let   
him be."  
  
Such was Fluffy's trust in Hagrid that the monster stopped   
growling, though he continued to regard the Potions Master in an   
unfriendly fashion.  
  
The half-giant didn't even attempt to convince the Cerberus that   
the Potions Master was harmless. He preferred to be honest with his   
monsters.  
  
"Best we can hope for..." Hagrid said, with a shrug. "He'll be   
chained up near my house most a' the time, at least until everyone's   
gone fer the summer an' Filch is alone. But it's a long chain,   
Professor, yeh'd best not get too close unless one of us is with yeh."  
  
Snape nodded, never taking his eyes off the Cerberus.  
  
Hagrid continued speaking gently to Fluffy for a while longer,   
praising the dog and petting all three heads.   
  
The half-giant rubbed the creature's back affectionately. Slowly   
the tension began to leave the Cerberus's huge body. After a moment or   
two, Fluffy lay down with a thud that rattled Hagrid's windows and made   
something breakable go crashing down inside the cabin.  
  
Unconcerned, Hagrid sat cross-legged on the ground beside the   
beast. Fluffy had rolled over to allow the giant to rub his belly.  
  
Obviously I prefer cats to dogs. But even I had to admit, when   
Hagrid found the spot that would make one of the monster's hind legs   
kick uncontrollably, Fluffy's behavior was rather endearing.  
  
The tiny black cat in my arms regarded the Cerberus with   
amusement.  
  
"Yes, I know..." I murmured, rubbing Azoth's ears affectionately.   
"Dogs have *no* dignity whatsoever."  
  
Sirius Black, who was sitting on Hagrid's front steps, gave me a   
look of mock indignation.  
  
"When you're blessed with canine charm, dignity is irrelevant,"   
the Animagus said.  
  
The Potions Master snorted. Then he winced and pressed a hand to   
his side.  
  
"Professor...?" I said, concerned.  
  
"I'm quite all right," Snape said, irritably. "Whether you realize   
it nor not, the three of you also look as though you've been through a   
small war."  
  
"Two small wars, actually," Black corrected him. "First there was   
Fluffy and Beaky. Then there was Fluffy and you."   
  
Snape glowered at him. "Be that as it may, I'm not fussing at any   
of you like a broody hen, am I?"  
  
Black, Hagrid and I all looked at him. As battered and bruised as   
we were, none of us were finding it painful to breathe.  
  
"Poppy's already left. I'll fetch the Headmaster," I said. "And,   
Professor, don't you even *think* of trying to hide this behind a   
glamour!"  
  
Snape glared at me.  
  
*******  
  
"I expected that this summer would hold many dangers for all of   
us," Dumbledore said, very dryly. "But I confess that I didn't expect   
our troubles to begin before sunset, on the same day that the children   
left..."  
  
Ignoring Snape's protests, the Headmaster had levitated the   
younger wizard into Hagrid's cabin and put him down, gently, on the bed.   
Then he'd helped Snape remove his outer robe and shirt so he could apply   
a cooling charm to his bruised ribs.  
  
Azoth had curled up, purring, next to Severus. Almost absently,   
the Potions Master rested a hand on the small cat's back.  
  
Hagrid and Black were outside, securing Fluffy on a long, and very   
strong chain. I had come in to sweep up the broken pieces of the cups   
that had fallen off their shelves when Fluffy had shaken the hut.  
  
"Professor Snape is all right, isn't he?" I asked, dumping the   
shattered crockery into Hagrid's dustbin. Dumbledore's Diagnostic Spell   
wasn't as smooth or accomplished as Poppy's, but I could feel the power   
in it.  
  
"Yes, Argus. He has no broken bones, and he's not bleeding inside.   
He is going to be sore for a while, though."  
  
Dumbledore frowned at Severus. "I sent messages to warn the   
Professors about Fluffy. Perhaps next time, instead of writing `URGENT -   
To Be Opened Immediately!' on yours, I'll send you a Howler."  
  
Black, who had just entered the cabin, choked back a laugh.  
  
The Headmaster sighed. "It's really not like you to ignore an   
urgent message," he said to Snape before the Potions Master could glare   
at the Animagus.  
  
"It wasn't intentional. I was preoccupied with other matters..."   
Snape murmured, apologetically.   
  
Curiously, I wondered what had engrossed Severus to the point   
where he would have forgotten to open something that was so obviously   
important. Dumbledore looked like he was wondering the same thing. But   
he let the subject go, for the time being.  
  
The bright blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles focused on   
me. "Argus, you had no difficulties in bringing Fluffy through Godric's   
Door?"  
  
"Well, it was a bit of tight squeeze," I said.  
  
"Not as tight as it ought to have been," Black commented, settling   
into one of Hagrid's chairs. "The Door grew a bit to accommodate the   
Cerberus."  
  
"It did?" I asked in surprise.   
  
The Animagus nodded. "I watched it happen. You didn't mean to do   
that?"  
  
"I wouldn't have known how!"  
  
"How intriguing," the Headmaster murmured. "You must write up a   
report for Alastor."  
  
"But how can I explain something that I didn't do on purpose?" I   
asked.  
  
"Good luck..." Severus told me, snidely. "Once Moody finds out   
about this new wrinkle, he'll hound you without mercy. Perhaps I'll owl   
him and let him know. Then, maybe, he'll stop pestering me."  
  
"Merlin's Beard, Snape! Haven't you finished writing your report   
for him yet?" Black asked him, incredulously. "How long does it take to   
write `I got sick?'"  
  
Snape glared. "If that visually hyperactive old madman would be   
content with such a terse account, then I would have been finished a   
long time ago!"  
  
"It's too bad that Filch doesn't have some `Door forms' made up.   
Then all you'd have to do is fill one out..." the Animagus said, dryly.  
  
My eyes widened. I looked at Black in delight. "A FORM! Why didn't   
I think of that? That's brilliant! If Moody is going to keep badgering   
people into experimenting then having a form all ready could save me no   
end of trouble!"  
  
Now they were all looking at me.  
  
"I'd need to ask for their Names, House, Which Door, Approximate   
Duration of Journey,..." I murmured.  
  
"'Are you (check one) First through Seventh Year? Professor?   
Animagus? Other?'" Dumbledore suggested, cheerfully. "And then you might   
add a few lines for an explanation if they've checked 'Other...'"  
  
"Animagi would need to fill out an additional section, of course,"   
Black said, grinning. "Noting how many times they'd already been through   
the Door, and if they were able to remain conscious or not..."  
  
"And then," he continued brightly, "there could be a section   
dealing with subject of nausea! `On a scale of one to twenty, (twenty   
being the worst) how sick did you get?' And then some more lines, for   
additional comments..."  
  
"Oh, yes!" I said. "And then I could leave a section for my own   
comments and notes!"  
  
Snape looked from Dumbledore to Black, with a sour expression.   
"The pair of you have obviously wasted perfectly good sarcasm on someone   
too thickheaded to appreciate it."  
  
"They weren't being sarcastic, they were only teasing," I said,   
with dignity. "There's a difference."  
  
"And it's still an excellent idea," I concluded.  
  
*******  
  
Those few of us who still remained in the Castle had dinner   
together at a single table in the center of the Great Hall. Sirius, in   
dog form, rested under Hagrid's chair. He had his own dish of food,   
which he barely touched. Nearly everyone felt sorry for him and tried to   
tempt him with table-scraps. Poor Black was as forlorn as red-and-gold   
had been earlier today. He was missing Harry.  
  
Severus, whose ribs obviously ached, did not eat very much either.   
He left the table early.  
  
After dinner, Minerva and I wandered the corridors together. We   
weren't sure if I was seeing her to her room, or if she was seeing me to   
mine. It did not matter since neither of us were in a hurry to get   
anywhere.  
  
"Albus mentioned that you'd had an interesting day," she said.   
Then she added curiously,  
  
"Argus, how did you know that Fluffy would be able to go through   
the Door without suffering any harm? I'm not simply referring to the   
matter of his size, or to the way that you were somehow able to make the   
Door grow for him. He's not an ordinary dog, is he?"  
  
"The Cerberus is a simple beast who belongs to Hagrid," I said. "I   
could think of no reason why Godric's Door would see him as a threat.   
Fluffy, big slobbering heads and all, is an innocent creature, untainted   
by the Dark."  
  
My voice grew softer.   
  
"I didn't want to say that this afternoon, in front of Severus.   
That Mark shames him so. I decided not to mention that I'd thought of it   
at all. I'm grateful to the Headmaster for not pressing the issue. I'm   
sure that he guessed anyhow. He was the one who spoke about wild magic   
to me this afternoon."  
  
"Most people would automatically consider the Wild creatures of   
this world already lost to the Light," Minerva said, quietly. "Not   
Albus, of course. Not me. And certainly not Hagrid," she said with an   
affectionate smile. "But I fear that we are in the minority."  
  
"It was old Pringle who taught me about Wild magic," I said,   
shyly. "It frightened him too. `It's not like the magic we have in the   
Castle' he told me. 'No order to it, no allegiance to either Light or   
Dark. It simply Is what it Is, without a rhyme or a reason.'"   
  
"He took me to the Forest's edge and made me promise him that I   
would never go in there. Said he'd have the skin off my back if I ever   
did. The threats weren't necessary. I could feel what he was talking   
about. It filled me with dread... but even then I knew that it wasn't   
Dark."  
  
Minerva smiled at me, gently. "Poor Pringle, filling you up with   
his fears. Argus, you're so much braver than you realize!"  
  
I wanted to protest that the old caretaker had simply been looking   
after me and I really wasn't brave at all though it was kind of her to   
think so, but then her left arm was around my back and her right hand   
was touching my face.   
  
Then, quite suddenly, she kissed me.  
  
*******  
  
What a magical thing a kiss can be! It can make time stand still   
and the whole world vanish. Nothing existed except for her. Soft lips   
against mine, luminous grey eyes I wanted to drown in for all of   
eternity.  
  
Minerva smelled wonderful, warm and sweet and clean. When my brain   
finally started functioning again, I hoped that she was enjoying this as   
much as I was...   
  
The kiss didn't last forever, though I wished it could. But, alas,   
we had to breathe eventually.  
  
When we broke apart, I became aware that there was a cat mewing   
shrilly on the floor by our feet.  
  
It wasn't Mrs. Norris. She would never have interrupted Minerva   
and me at such a moment. It was Azoth.   
  
The tiny black cat was making the same frantic mew that his mother   
uses to warn me of impending disaster, brewing mischief and incipient   
mayhem.  
  
"No!" I growled, glaring at him. "Go away! It's summer! The brats   
have all gone! Get someone else! We're *busy!*"   
  
"Argus, hush..." Minerva said, fondly. She gave me another swift   
kiss, before focusing her attention on the small yowling tomcat.  
  
I love Azoth with all my heart, as I do his brothers and sisters.   
Mrs. Norris's kittens had all been born into my hands, and I'd seen each   
one taking their first breath. However, I could cheerfully have given   
the little wretch a very hard kick.  
  
"It's Severus," Minerva said. "Azoth isn't sure what's wrong, but   
he's afraid. Severus is in his classroom, alone. He's shut Azoth out.   
And there's a terrible coldness inside the room with him."  
  
I sighed, my annoyance with the scared kitten fading. Severus had   
certainly been preoccupied with something today. What was he up to?  
  
"We'd better go and see," I said. At least I didn't have to leave   
Minerva to take the long way down to the dungeons.  
  
My friend, my comrade, (my love!) assumed her sleek feline form   
and leaped into my arms as I summoned red-and-gold.  
  
Together with Azoth, the two of us stepped into Godric's Door, and   
went to see what had happened to poor Severus.  
  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER SIX  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
RADKA: Thank you for commenting on "Squib Wizard: To Comfort Gehenna!"   
And Thank you for recommending Taran's story, "When A Student Becomes A   
Friend!" Read it, loved it, and reviewed it!  
  
Filch couldn't have been a Slytherin. But some of the Slytherins don't   
know that. The ways of Squibs are mysterious. Some of the Slytherins   
might think that Filch had just enough magic to get a letter, but failed   
at his studies.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes on Chapter 5 of "Squib Caretaker:"  
  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Snape tried to help Sirius because the Animagus   
had just jumped between him and a three headed monster, wrapping his   
arms around one of the creature's mouths to prevent Snape from being   
bitten. Snape always tries to pay his debts.  
  
Dumbledore did what he could for Snape's bruised ribs. They're still   
going to hurt him for a while.  
  
I LOVED what you said about Fluffy's perception of Harry, Ron and   
Hermione as "a very small three-headed puppy!!!" That is GREAT!!!  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! Snape will be back next chapter.  
  
Tina: Thank you!! Severus managed to survive his meeting with Fluffy,   
but he's found some more trouble.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Excellent call about the question of   
Fluffy's size.  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!!  
  
AET: Thank you!! The Doors' "default" size is about the height and width   
of a doorway that two people can comfortably walk through side by side.   
  
But, since the Doors are magical, their size is adjustable, within   
certain parameters. Getting Fluffy through was s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g the   
parameters just a bit. Red-and-gold was willing to try extra hard for   
Filch since he'd been kind enough to find Harry.  
  
Aniwda: Thank you!! Red-and-gold was happy to "meet" Harry, because   
Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor.  
  
A few stories back, one reviewer asked me if each Founder's Heir would   
have access to that Founder's Door, without being affected by any   
protective spells.   
  
I liked that idea, so I said "Yes." Then another reviewer asked me if I   
thought that Harry was the Heir of Gryffindor. I thought about it and   
decided that, in my opinion, Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor.  
  
I don't know if Rowling has anything like this planned, but I'm having   
fun... 


	7. Cold Spell

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Seven: Cold Spell  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Minerva reverted to her human form as soon as we emerged from   
Godric's Door. Thanks to our practicing she remained conscious and   
standing, though she did lean on me for a moment or two.  
  
Red-and-gold could not bring us directly into Severus Snape's   
classroom. At Snape's request, Professor Flitwick had used powerful   
Charms to block entry via my Doors.  
  
The dungeons of Hogwarts Castle are always cool and damp. But the   
icy air that emanated from behind the Potions classroom door went far   
beyond that. On emerging from the tapestry, Minerva, Azoth and I all   
felt as though we had just stepped unprepared into a harsh night in the   
dead of winter.  
  
Our breath misted in the air. Minerva's cheeks and nose grew rosy   
with cold. I could almost feel icicles forming on the end of my own   
nose. The walls, ceiling and floor of the dungeon corridor were coated   
with ice.  
  
Poor Azoth was yowling again. Moving carefully on the slippery   
frozen stones, I picked up the little cat.   
  
Minerva's glasses had frosted over. Tugging them off, she murmured   
a heating charm, dried the glasses on her sleeve and put them on again.  
  
"Am I correct in assuming that Severus has enough protective wards   
on his door to repel several Aurors, an assortment of hit-wizards and   
perhaps a Mountain Troll or two?" she asked me.  
  
I nodded, shivering.  
  
"Keep back, Argus. In case I set something off."  
  
Keep back?! Not likely! I was only a Squib but I could still   
shield her with my body, if necessary!  
  
Of course there was no reason to endanger poor Azoth into the   
bargain. Turning away, I set the little cat down beside red-and-gold,   
(which now had a coating of frost forming on it) and came back to stand   
stubbornly at Minerva's side.  
  
Minerva gave me a look of exasperation. "All right then. But I   
don't want to hear another word from you about how rash and reckless we   
Gryffindors are," she said, sternly.  
  
With that, Minerva banged on Snape's door.  
  
"Severus! Can you hear me? Say something to let us know that   
you're all right! Even if it's only `Go Away!'"  
  
"Professor Snape!" I shouted, banging on the door as well. The   
coldness of the wood under my fist made me gasp. "Please, answer us!"  
  
There was no reply. At least the mere act of knocking didn't   
trigger any defensive reactions from Snape's wards.  
  
"Argus, can you tell me exactly which spells Severus has used?"   
Minerva asked.  
  
I closed my eyes, focusing on the wards. "There's a massive   
Insidiarum Curse. It's an ambush, maybe with those porcupine quills he's   
so fond of using. A nasty Excutio spell, strong enough to shake off a   
fair number of magical attacks. And a Duro Charm to strengthen the door   
against more mundane forms of assault, such as a battering ram..."  
  
"Severus would think of that too..." she muttered.  
  
"He has some hexes as well. A Stupere, which would knock us silly   
after the rest of this lot have finished with us, plus a Torpeo which   
would have nearly the same effect, just for good measure..."  
  
Minerva sighed.  
  
"What if I didn't attack the door all? What if I Transfigured the   
wood into something else, without trying to get through it?" She said,   
thoughtfully.  
  
"You'd still set something off," I said.  
  
"Perhaps not. I'm going to use a very small spell. We have to take   
the chance. We can't stand here and do nothing."  
  
Shivering with cold, Minerva raised her wand. I tensed, ready to   
leap in front of her if she set off any Curses.  
  
"Liquidum..." she whispered.  
  
It certainly was a tiny spell, barely a whisper of magic, but   
controlled with pinpoint precision. A fine mist begin to form on the   
wooden door. Abruptly, the door turned into water. Because of the   
dreadful cold, the water quickly turned to ice.  
  
I felt the Insidiarum Curse, the most sensitive of Snape's wards,   
a heartbeat before it reacted. Wrapping my arms around Minerva I tackled   
her to the frozen floor.  
  
The Curse didn't shoot porcupine quills, it shot icicles. Most of   
them passed over us, shattering glassily against the far wall. Azoth   
yowled in fear as the broken pieces rained down around him, but he   
escaped injury. A few of them slashed across my back, but I was too numb   
with cold to feel the pain.  
  
We stayed huddled on the floor until the Curse was spent. Then,   
cautiously, we stood.  
  
The ice that the door had become was transparent. We could now see   
what was going on inside the Potions classroom. Of course the ice wasn't   
as clear as glass, many fine cracks and pockets of trapped air distorted   
the view.   
  
Severus was plainly visible, standing in the center of the room.   
All of the student tables and chairs had been moved back to the walls.   
The only object near the Professor was a small, white cauldron.  
  
The white cauldron was resting on a metal stand, placed on the   
floor over a very strange looking fire. The "flames" appeared to be made   
of ice-shards.  
  
Azoth had communicated to Minerva that Severus was all alone.   
Perhaps he had been, but he wasn't now. At the Potions Master's side   
floated a tall, grim ghost with wide, staring eyes and silver   
bloodstains on his clothes.  
  
We watched as Severus dipped a ladle that appeared to be made of   
ice into the white cauldron. Lifting the ladle, he poured something   
clear and sparkling into the frigid air before him.  
  
The deadly cold intensified as the clear substance floated in mid-  
air, thickened and became a crystalline globe with silver at the core.   
The globe began to spin in mid-air, flattening and stretching as it did   
so.  
  
Snape kept his eyes on what was now a floating, full-length   
mirror, but the Bloody Baron's gaze fixed on Minerva and me.  
  
As a series of cracks appeared in the silvery mirror, the   
Slytherin ghost moved swiftly, floating through Snape's warded door.  
  
There is much variation in the abilities of wizards. The same is   
true of ghosts. Like Albus Dumbledore, the Bloody Baron seldom finds it   
necessary to demonstrate the full range of his strength and power.  
  
But now, the Baron shattered the icy barrier to Snape's classroom   
as he passed through it. "Shield him, Madam! Quickly! For our experiment   
goes awry!" He intoned at Minerva.  
  
Minerva was already moving, swiftly rising to head across the   
frozen floor towards Snape. She had shielding spells in place to deflect   
the flying hexes and curses.  
  
"Stay down!" She urged me. "And look after Azoth! I don't think I   
can shield you, me and Severus!"  
  
The kitten was still crouching by the wall, trembling. I went to   
him, cradling the little tom in my arms.   
  
There was a surge of even more unbearable cold and then a loud   
sound like the splintering of something huge, made of glass. Most likely   
it was Snape's floating mirror. But it sounded as if the frozen air   
itself had shattered. I did not see anything, my eyes were tightly shut.  
  
When things quieted down, I let go of Azoth and stood up slowly.   
Warmth was slowly returning to the dungeon corridor, like spring after   
winter. Water dripped from the ceiling and ran down the walls. Puddles   
were everywhere.  
  
The immediate vicinity looked like what's left after one of Fred   
and George Weasley's infamous parties. The air was hazy with smoke from   
the aftermath of Snape's protective spells. The sharp scent of violent   
magic lingered in the air and made me wheeze.  
  
Coughing, afraid of what I was going to find, I splashed my way   
into the wrecked Potions classroom to Minerva and Severus. They were   
lying very still on the floor. The Baron floated beside them.  
  
Minerva's shielding spells had held. She must have given the   
lion's share of the protection to Severus. Flying ice-shards had left   
her with many small cuts on her face and arms, while Severus was nearly   
unmarked. Her glasses were broken. She sat up, gingerly, looking me over   
anxiously to make sure that I was all right.  
  
Then she and I knelt beside poor Severus, who was blue and   
shivering violently with cold, despite the rising temperature.  
  
"I shall take my leave. He must be kept warm," the Baron said in   
his sepulchral voice. He vanished before either of us could ask him what   
he and Severus had been up to.  
  
*******  
  
The staff bathroom down in the dungeons has a copper tub with taps   
all around it, big enough to swim in. It's set on a rectangular   
platform. There's enough torches set in the wall to keep the place from   
looking too gloomy.  
  
Air that was warm and steamy felt like paradise after the cold.   
Still shivering, Severus settled deeper into the warm bath that we'd   
drawn for him. The bruises on his ribs were now spectacular shades of   
black and purple.   
  
Minerva and I were seated on the stone platform, where we could   
keep an eye on Severus while he soaked in the tub. Azoth was in   
Minerva's lap. I was gently washing the cuts on Minerva's face and arms   
with a damp washcloth. Her glasses, repaired, were resting beside her.   
  
Poor Minerva! She had now joined Black, Snape, Hagrid and me in   
the ranks of those who looked as if they had been through a small war.   
Her hair had come loose, and flowed down her back. With her hair down   
and her wounds, she looked rather like a little girl who had been   
playing in thorns and brambles.  
  
"Please pardon my disrespect, Professor Snape," I said, testily.   
"But, what in Hell were you doing?"  
  
"I regret very deeply that my actions placed the two of you in   
danger," the Potions Master said. His voice shook with cold and   
exhaustion. "And it was all for nothing. I failed."  
  
"Severus," Minerva's voice was gentler than mine had been. "What   
were you trying to do?"  
  
"You saw the mirror. If I had been successful, then it would have   
been a portal, a gateway. Alchemists can make Doors too."  
  
"It's a perilous business!" I growled.   
  
"Yes, Filch, I am aware of that," he said, too dispirited even to   
sneer.   
  
"Why do you suppose I waited until the students had gone for the   
summer to make an attempt? There are potions that require cold as a   
catalyst, instead of heat. I've been trying to get this right all day,"   
he said, with a sigh. "This evening the Baron was kind enough to assist   
me. My Fimbul Charm was strong enough, but maintaining a constant   
temperature was too difficult, even with his aid. The mirror remained   
unstable."  
  
"I do apologize for the mess," he added, without sarcasm.  
  
"Damn the mess!" I snapped. "You could have been killed!"  
  
The only answer I received from him was a sneeze, which clearly   
hurt the poor man's ribs.  
  
"Poor Severus. You've had a bit too much cold today, I think..."   
Minerva said, dryly.  
  
"No, I haven't," Snape snarled. He promptly sneezed again.   
  
"Poppy always leaves some Pepperup potion. Just in case," I said,   
ignoring the scowl on his face. "I'll be right back."  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
It may be a few extra days until the next chapter appears... my husband   
just decided on a spur-of-the-moment trip.  
  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! Alan Rickman in "Prince of Thieves." Oh,   
yes...!! (Ozma squeals happily and melts into an adoring, Rickman-  
worshipping puddle.)  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! They weren't supposed to kiss, really. They were   
only supposed to talk. Minerva was going to tell Argus (in words) that   
he continually delights her with the depths of his insights and   
perception. Then they were both going to blush a bit and be shy. But,   
Minerva wouldn't stick to the script.  
  
Blue Moon: Thank you!! I'm glad that you liked the kiss! I wasn't   
expecting Minerva to do that. She caught me by surprise. Filch too. Not   
that he minded very much.  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!! I really did mean to try to stay close to canon,   
honest! It wasn't going to go beyond silent worship on his part and   
unspoken affection on hers. But then, Minerva had to go and kiss him.   
Perhaps I'm writing in an alternate universe now, I'm not sure.   
  
I still don't want to stray too far from Rowling's established world, at   
least not intentionally. Still, there's always the chance that Rowling   
will write something in the next book that will conflict with or negate   
something I've come up with. So, I've decided not to worry too much and   
just have fun.   
  
How many forms do I have to fill out at work? Too many. Unlike Filch, I   
do not enjoy them at all. But they do make some things easier.  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! Poor Severus is somewhat the worse for wear, but   
he's basically okay.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Hagrid probably thinks of Fluffy as an oversized   
dog, a good match for an oversized person.  
  
Wouldn't it be cute if someone rubbed Snuffles' tummy until his leg   
started kicking? I love it when dogs do that.  
  
Snape was distracted by his attempt at Door making. His Door would not   
have been bound to the Castle.   
  
If his experiment had been successful, it could have been a way to   
rescue Voldemort's prisoners once someone finds out where they're being   
held. Snape doesn't know where Voldemort is keeping them either.  
  
(I've been thinking about Snape and the matter of Harry's visions. I   
don't think that Severus knows about this talent/burden of Harry's.   
Dumbledore gives Snape the information, but doesn't name the source.   
Harry's visions are the sort of thing that it would be dangerous for   
Snape to know, in case Voldemort discovers that he's a is a spy and   
tortures him for information.)  
  
AET: Thank you!! Snape put Azoth out of the room so he wouldn't have to   
worry about hurting the cat with his experiments. Azoth and his wizard   
look out for each other.   
  
I love the idea of Filch in the Container Store!! He'd be so delighted!!  
  
Tina: Thank you!! Severus isn't in trouble any more, but he's still in   
hot water ;-)  
  
Gksharer: Thank you!!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!  
  
Aniwda: Thank you!! It's easy to picture Fluffy as just an extra-large   
dog with two extra heads.   
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Yes, the thought of cleaning up after a dog   
Fluffy's size just makes me shudder. You have summed up Snape's   
relationship with Azoth perfectly!  
  
Yes, Filch would see himself surrounded by cleanliness and order if he   
was to look in the Mirror of Erised. And he'd be a real wizard with a   
wand. And Minerva would be in his arms.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! Voldemort's evil can resist all that is wholesome   
and cute, even an adorable little kitten. This is the same Dark Lord who   
murdered a young mother, and tried to do the same to the cute, helpless   
little baby she was holding in her arms...  
  
Minnowgirl: Thank you!! I think of "wild magic" as a neutral force, to   
go with Dark and Light. There's always shades of grey.  
  
What would the Doors do with Remus? Hmmmmm. What an intriguing   
question... 


	8. Lonely Spirits and Long Lost Spells

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Eight: Lonely Spirits and Long Lost Spells  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
On the first full day after the students left Hogwarts for the   
summer, I contemplated the long list of jobs I had to do. Starting with   
the plumbing. I would shut off the water supply to the areas of the   
Castle that would be unused for the next two months. Then, over the next   
few weeks, I'd fix all of the slow drains, leaky taps and blocked pipes.  
  
The house-elves were cleaning out the dormitories today, and then   
they'd be occupied with the laundry. It was anyone's guess as to who   
would be able to make it down to the dungeons first. The elves would be   
cleaning the wreckage in the Potions classroom, left after Professor   
Snape's failed experiment with an Alchemist's Door. And I'd promised to   
get the Professor a new door for his classroom.  
  
This morning, the house-elves who weren't working on either the   
dormitories or the washing had put a buffet-style breakfast out in the   
Great Hall for the few staff members who remained at the Castle. It was   
a serve-yourself affair, with all of us wandering in and out at   
different times. But Minerva and I had arranged to have breakfast   
together. She'd been quite well and in excellent spirits, despite the   
scratches on her face and arms.   
  
Usually, the thought of a day spent cleaning out blocked drains   
and repairing leaky toilets would not have put me in a good mood. But, I   
was humming under my breath and walking with a spring in my step as I   
entered the girls' bathroom that Moaning Myrtle calls home.  
  
Consulting my list (one leaky tap, two slow drains) I got out my   
tools.  
  
"Oh, it's all very well for SOME people to be cheerful!" A glum   
voice said from behind me. "But you don't have to come bursting in here,   
bang your things down and start SINGING!"  
  
Moaning Myrtle usually concludes such statements by bursting into   
tears. This time was no exception. The sight of the ghost-brat bawling   
her eyes out is quite commonplace. I usually react with either boredom   
or annoyance.  
  
Not today. Minerva McGonagall had honored me with a kiss last   
night and had shared breakfast with me this morning. The world seemed a   
very sweet place indeed.  
  
"My apologies, child," I said, far less gruff than usual. I   
stopped humming. "I didn't mean to bother you. "I'll just do my work   
quietly and be on my way."  
  
The girl ghost wailed even louder.   
  
Comforting people has never really been my forte. And it would   
take a Cheering Charm as strong as an Unforgivable Curse to make a dent   
in Moaning Myrtle's gloom.  
  
Though, I do know a wizard who can work a Cheering Charm that   
powerful. Sighing, I wondered what Sirius Black would say if I asked him   
to cast one of his Unforgivably Cheerful Curses (to borrow Snape's name   
for it) on Myrtle.  
  
I could imagine the Animagus looking at me with wide, mischievous   
eyes.  
  
"Filch! Are you saying that Moaning Myrtle is ...unhappy? Really?   
Good God, man! Next you'll be telling me that Peeves is annoying, and   
you're grouchy and Snape is sarcastic...!"  
  
Would Cheering Charms even work on ghosts? I wasn't sure. Black   
would probably know.  
  
I watched as Myrtle, sobbing piteously, drifted away from me   
through the door of the last stall. I couldn't see her any longer but   
her voice still echoed off the walls.  
  
"Peeves told me all about you, last night," she choked. "You and   
McGonagall..! *Snogging!*"  
  
I heard her dive into the tank with a splash.  
  
"*Students* snog," I said, indignantly. "We kissed!"   
  
My pleasant mood was beginning to fray around the edges. I opened   
the stall door and yelled at the toilet.   
  
"Not that it's any of your business! Or Peeves' business either!"  
  
Sniffling, Myrtle rose back out of the tank. Her eyes, behind the   
pearly glasses, were tear-filled and tragic.   
  
"No boy ever kissed me," she said, wretchedly. "Not one. I've   
always told myself that no boy ever would have kissed me. Not even if I   
had lived to be a hundred! But YOU were kissed. YOU!! It's not fair! If   
I wasn't already dead then I'd... I'd KILL myself!"  
  
I nearly snarled something heartless at her. Myrtle is a damp,   
grey drizzle on any bit of warmth and cheer she happens to encounter!  
  
Then I bit my tongue. Was I any better? Hadn't I drizzled on   
enough good cheer in my time, dampened plenty of bright spirits? Been so   
choked by my own misery and bitterness that anyone else's happiness had   
seemed like a personal affront to me?  
  
I knew that I was ill-favored, surly, unpleasant. All that, and no   
magic, too. Yet, Minerva wanted me. And I'd been too delighted by the   
miracle to wonder how long it would last...  
  
"Professor McGonagall will come to her senses soon enough, I   
expect," I growled, trying to hide the painful doubt in my heart with   
anger.   
  
"She'll realize that she's kissed an ugly old Squib. Perhaps she   
only did it out of pity in the first place!"  
  
Myrtle glared at me.   
  
"Oooh! You are so THICK!" she sniffled, rising out of the tank   
completely to hover at my eye-level.   
  
"She fancies you. There's no accounting for taste, is there? I   
noticed ages ago. You were in here, bawling, and she came in to comfort   
you."  
  
"You're a fine one to talk about bawling!" I snapped,   
automatically.   
  
"S-she fancies me?" I asked in a smaller, much more tentative   
voice. "Do you really think so?"  
  
"Wasn't the kiss enough of a clue, even for you?" the ghost-brat   
said, annoyed. Myrtle wanted me to pity her, not myself. "McGonagall   
doesn't go around just kissing people, does she?"  
  
"She was always one of the pretty ones," Myrtle continued, glumly.   
"Olive Hornby was quite jealous of her. Lots of boys looked at   
McGonagall. Not that she ever seemed to notice. Always going about with   
a serious expression and her nose in a book."  
  
Her lower lip quivered. "You probably don't remember me, when I   
was alive. But, surely, you must remember McGonagall. She was here then   
too."  
  
"Was she?" I asked, wistfully. "I'm afraid that I didn't notice   
any of the students much in those days, child. I was too busy trying to   
learn my way around."   
  
I spoke without rancor. Myrtle's words had soothed some of the   
whispers of doubt and fear in my heart. But what she said next chilled   
me to the bone.  
  
"HE noticed her..." the ghost said, darkly. "Handsome Tom.   
Followed her with his eyes often enough when he thought no one could   
see. I was beneath his notice, naturally. Hmmph. I don't suppose that HE   
looked twice at me, not even after his Basilisk left me lying here, cold   
and d-dead..."  
  
"Not that I'd have *wanted* any part of HIM," she said, with a   
shudder as she became a bit more transparent. "Handsome is as handsome   
does, my Mum used to say. At any rate, HE's not so handsome any more, by   
all accounts..."  
  
"Myrtle...?" I whispered, "are you saying that He Who Must Not Be   
Named took a particular interest in Minerva?"  
  
The ghost-brat might enjoy the misfortunes of others, but she   
hadn't meant to distress me quite so much.   
  
"It was a long time ago," Myrtle said in the most comforting voice   
she could manage. "She certainly never cared for HIM at all. Not one to   
have her head turned by charm and a handsome face, McGonagall isn't.   
Aren't you proof enough of that? And HE has a great deal of other things   
on his mind these days, of course."  
  
"Harry's more than HE ever bargained for..." the ghost-girl said   
with satisfaction, even as she blushed silver at the thought of Potter.  
  
Myrtle's usual glum tone turned wistful. "Harry doesn't know how   
handsome he is," she confided. "He hasn't even noticed Ginny yet, and   
she's *alive!*"  
  
"Oh, Myrtle, please do shut up..." I mumbled, turning away from   
the stall and her silly prattle.  
  
But my fingers were clumsy when I tried to work. Tools, pipes and   
fittings seemed to be continuously slipping from my hands. I had already   
been dreadfully worried about Minerva being harmed by the Dark Lord,   
simply because she was a powerful servant of the Light. The knowledge   
that He Who Must Not Be Named might have a personal grudge against her,   
a girl who had once spurned him, left me numb with fear for my lovely   
Professor.  
  
When the ghost brat spoke to me again, calling my name right next   
to my ear, I yelled in fright. And I dropped a heavy wrench directly   
onto my right foot.  
  
"Some people are LUCKY they're dead!" I snarled painfully, hopping   
about on one foot so I could clutch at the other. "Because if certain   
people weren't already dead, then I'd have to kill 'em!"   
  
Gingerly, I wiggled my toes to see if they still worked. "Oooh!   
Ow...ow...ow!"  
  
Then I yelled again in shock. Myrtle was holding her icy,   
transparent hand over my throbbing foot.  
  
"What a complete prat you are," she scolded. "I made a lot less   
noise when I died!"  
  
"Well, you've more than made up for it since!" I growled, wincing.  
  
Her small hand was as good as a cooling charm. But I was too   
annoyed with her to admit it.  
  
"You had something that you wanted to say to me, Myrtle?" I asked   
her, gruffly. "Before you made me smash my foot?"  
  
"O-only that you're not really so b-bad. Not much to look at of   
course, but McGonagall doesn't seem to mind." Myrtle's voice was getting   
quivery again.  
  
A realization overwhelmed me, then. Dead, Myrtle was one of the   
brats forever. But, had she lived, she'd be a woman now. Only a few   
years younger than Minerva and me. Perhaps, in time, she would have   
learned how to be happy, found herself a friend or two.   
  
Eventually she might have loved someone and been loved in return.   
  
She certainly wouldn't be here, haunting the gloomiest bathroom in   
the whole Castle, the first known victim of the Dark Lord.   
  
Poor child. No wonder she envied me that sweet kiss.  
  
Such thoughts were too painful for me to attempt to put into words   
easily. By the time I found my voice, she was already gone; vanished   
back into her u-bend.  
  
"You're not so bad either..." I said, hobbling over to the empty   
stall.  
  
There was no reply. Not even the tiniest sob.  
  
I finished fixing the taps and drains in silence.  
  
*******  
  
"You're limping, Filch," Professor Snape observed hoarsely, the   
moment he saw me.   
  
I'd made a good start on my plumbing work, but it was getting late   
now. I had promised to see about Professor Snape's new door. Summoning   
green-and-silver into the Prefect's bathroom where I'd just finished   
working, I emerged into the dungeon corridor outside the Potions   
classroom.  
  
Stating the obvious isn't the Professor's usual style. But I   
recognized the statement as a gambit meant to distract me. The   
Professor's eyes were glassy, the end of his nose was sore and red. It   
was obvious that he hadn't taken the Pepperup potion that I'd fetched   
from Poppy's stores for him yesterday.  
  
"This is NOT a cold," he informed me, when I glared at him,   
refusing to be distracted.   
  
"I did try to explain matters to you last night. Shall we try   
again? Listen carefully. Cold potions can have an unfortunate   
...backlash when they go wrong. The Pepperup is not going to help."   
  
Snape concluded his speech with a sneeze that left him clutching   
at his ribs.  
  
"Well, Professor, brew yourself something that will help. And try   
to rest. Please, leave what's left of the mess to Gilly, Primrose and   
me."  
  
Gilly and Primrose were two of the Castle's elves. They had been   
helping Snape to restore order in his damaged classroom. Anything   
salvageable was back in its proper place. The things that were beyond   
saving, mostly broken desks and chairs, were in a heap by the empty   
doorway.  
  
"I'll be able to get started on a new door before nightfall," I   
said, moving swiftly into the classroom. Taking an armload of broken   
desk pieces I dropped them into the huge wheelbarrow I'd borrowed from   
Hagrid.   
  
The elves and I made several trips out to the hill where we   
usually burn rubbish. I took the wheelbarrow through green-and-silver   
and the elves traveled in their own swift way.  
  
Snape met us on the hill when we were finished.  
  
"Incendio!" Severus said, and the pile of wood was burning.  
  
We dismissed the elves with our thanks. The Professor stayed to   
watch the fire. His hands were wrapped around a large, steaming goblet.   
  
I noted, with concern, that Severus still seemed to be feeling   
cold. He stood closer to the fire than most people would care to do, on   
a warm summer evening.   
  
"More backlash?" I asked, frowning. "Professor... have you told   
the Headmaster about this procedure of yours, with Cold Potions and the   
Alchemist's Door?"  
  
"The Headmaster is a busy man. I see no need to bother him with   
accounts of my unsuccessful experiments," the Potions Master said,   
harshly.  
  
I would take that as a `no.'   
  
"Professor, I realize that I know very little about Potions..." I   
began.  
  
"Really, Filch. Do tell."  
  
No one should be able to fit so much sarcasm into four simple   
words.  
  
"I've never heard of Cold Potions before," I said, plunging on   
doggedly.  
  
"I'm not surprised. They are very difficult to work with. Not the   
sort of thing that even a master should attempt without years of study   
and practice. I certainly do not teach them to my students. Imagine the   
mess that would result."  
  
"I'd rather not, thank you."  
  
Snape's voice was getting hoarse again. He took another sip from   
the goblet.  
  
"The Alchemist's Door is among the most dangerous and rarely   
attempted of all Cold Potion spells. The precise measurements of the   
ingredients and the exact procedure have been lost for nearly a thousand   
years," he murmured, looking at me with hooded eyes.  
  
"Lost? Then how were you able to...?"  
  
He smiled. "That is my secret, Filch. But I will say that I am in   
your debt. Yours and Azoth's."  
  
"Professor, I don't understand!"  
  
"Good," he murmured, silkily.   
  
His eyes glittered.  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:   
  
  
I owe special thanks to Alchemine, and her wonderful stories, "June   
Week" and "Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc," featuring a young Minerva and Tom   
Riddle. Those stories inspired Moaning Myrtle's observations regarding   
Tom's interest in Minerva.  
  
Rabbit and Jinx: Thank you for the review on "Squib Wizard: To Comfort   
Gehenna!" Going back to an earlier story was fun... I might do it again   
if inspiration strikes.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes On Chapter Seven:  
  
Darklady: Thank you!!  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!!  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!! You're right about Snape and the Pepperup potion.   
He got out of taking it, insisting that he doesn't have a cold at all.  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! I hope that you made it to your doctor's   
appointment okay!!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Yes, Snape has good reasons for wanting   
strong wards on his door. They weren't only for his protection. He   
wanted to prevent unwelcome guests from entering the room while a   
dangerous experiment was in progress.  
  
aniwda: Thank you!! I'll try!!  
  
Elektra: Thank you!!  
  
AET: Thank you!! Yes, there are some attacks to the Castle that   
Dumbledore would feel. These would probably have to be large, full scale   
attacks though. Snape's deep-freeze wasn't a danger to Castle, only to   
himself and anyone who happened to be in the room with him.  
  
A witch or wizard with enough power could probably get through Snape's   
wards, with effort and some luck. Snape is quite a powerful wizard and   
the process would be dangerous and time consuming. Dumbledore would have   
an easier time than anyone else would.  
  
emma: Thank you!!  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! I agree about Snape's lack of self-esteem. He   
wouldn't feel such a need to belittle students if he had a decent self-  
image. He takes failure very hard. If he'd been successful at creating   
an Alchemist's Door then he wouldn't have been so quiet.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! More Sirius next chapter! 


	9. Fireside Chat

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Nine: Fireside Chat  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"Perhaps I should go and see about putting up your new classroom   
door, Professor," I said to Snape.  
  
As I spoke, I puzzled over what he'd just told me. The Cold Potion   
Spell; the one that he'd tried to use to create the Alchemist's Door,   
had been lost for nearly a thousand years. And Severus had found it   
somehow... with my help, and Azoth's.  
  
But *how* had the little black tom and I aided him? I had no idea.  
  
The Potions Master seemed to take a certain pleasure in my   
confusion. A faint smile lingered around his mouth as he clutched the   
steaming goblet in his hands and studied the bonfire before us.  
  
"There's no hurry about my classroom door, Filch," he said,   
hoarsely. "My office is still guarded by its own door, and by an   
assortment of protective curses. There's nothing ...sensitive in my   
classroom at the moment."  
  
The sky above us was rosy with the setting sun. The day had been   
warm, but now a cool breeze fanned the bonfire's flames. Shivering a   
bit, Severus took a sip from the goblet and moved closer to the fire.  
  
"All right. No rush, then. I'll get to it first thing in the   
morning," I said. It had been a long day and I was tired. And my right   
foot hurt.   
  
Sitting down, I unlaced my boot so I could tug it off. The heavy   
boot had prevented any serious injury, but my instep was bruised.  
  
"Moody sent an owl. He wished to speak to me this evening,"   
Severus said, still watching the fire. Taking a handkerchief from his   
pocket, he blew his nose.   
  
"I sent a reply, telling him to meet me here," he continued in a   
muffled voice.  
  
"Would you like me to stay with you?" I asked, gingerly wiggling   
my toes. I realized that I sounded like a father asking a small child if   
he wanted some company at his bedside, to keep away ogres and   
nightmares.  
  
"What I meant was, may I stay?" I amended quickly. "I have some   
things that I want to speak to Moody about too. That is, if you don't   
mind."  
  
"No, Filch. I don't mind." The Professor said. Then he sneezed.  
  
*******  
  
The bonfire was blazing merrily when Hagrid and Sirius Black   
accompanied Mad Eye Moody down the hillside towards us. Their reason for   
escorting the old Auror was obvious. Fluffy, freed from his chain for   
his evening exercise, was lumbering along behind them, right at Hagrid's   
heels.  
  
When the Cerberus saw the Potions Master, the right and center   
heads immediately began growling. And the left head barked angrily.  
  
"Stop that, Fluffy!" I said, very firmly. "It's all right.   
Hagrid's here, and so am I."   
  
The Cerberus obeyed!   
  
I was so delighted that I didn't mind when the beast came close   
enough for all three heads to drool on me. But then the center head   
licked my face. (Eurgh!)   
  
The monster settled on the ground right behind me, with a massive   
thud.  
  
Hagrid beamed at both of us, patted Fluffy's heads, and gave me a   
clap on the back that would have knocked me down if I wasn't already   
sitting.  
  
The half giant noticed my latest bruise. He sat beside me and   
pulled a bottle out of his pocket. Then he held it out, cheerfully.   
  
"Here, Filch. Good fer what ails yeh."  
  
I shook my head politely.   
  
Sirius, who had sat down on Hagrid's other side, accepted the   
bottle when it was offered to him. The Animagus leaned back against   
Fluffy.  
  
The two Gryffindors passed the bottle back and forth, while the   
two Slytherins stood and glared at each other.  
  
"Snape," Moody growled, finally. "I was coming here to pick up   
that report I asked you for, months ago. Well, I know you haven't done   
it. I'm granting you an extension. Black's just told me that Filch is   
working on a form. You're going to fill one out and owl it to me, as   
soon as they're ready."  
  
The Potions Master nodded, coolly. Then he glared at Sirius Black,   
who was mouthing, "You OWE me, Snape!" at him.   
  
"Filch. I'm glad you're here," Moody said, turning his mismatched   
gaze on me. "Albus tells me that you've taken Potter through Godric's   
Door. And he didn't get sick."  
  
The old Auror settled himself on the ground next to me. "When you   
get those Door forms finished, you owl one to Potter too. Along with   
instructions to send it to me once he completes it."  
  
I nodded.   
  
"What? Potter had no reaction? None?" Snape, who was the only one   
still standing, stared down at me incredulously.  
  
"That's right," I said. "Though it did seem to hurt his scar a   
bit."  
  
"Harry didn't tell me about that," Black murmured.  
  
"He didn't want ter upset yeh," Hagrid said comfortingly, handing   
him the bottle.  
  
"It passed quickly enough," I reassured the Animagus.  
  
"Do you or the Headmaster have any theories to explain WHY Potter   
did not react in the usual manner?" Snape asked Moody, sharply.  
  
"Yep. A few guesses." Moody said.  
  
After a moment of silence it became clear that Mad Eye wasn't   
going to elaborate further.  
  
"Potter!" The Potions Master snarled the boy's name as if it was   
an epithet. "Everyone else his age becomes desperately sick, but he   
doesn't so much as gag! How typical! Even enchanted objects fall at his   
feet in celebrity-worshipping adoration!"  
  
Snape's voice trailed off into a barely audible rasp.  
  
"Cranky git, aren't you?" Black observed.   
  
The Animagus had looked very fierce when Snape had started   
speaking. His anger had turned to amusement. Poor Severus sounded too   
ill and fretful to be provoking.  
  
"Our understanding of the rules governing the Doors' use is far   
from complete," I said, to reassure the disgruntled Potions Master.   
"Surely Potter's reaction will prove to be within the proper guidelines,   
once we know what they are."  
  
Snape paid no attention to me. He was glaring at Black.   
  
The Animagus merely smiled, as he handed Hagrid the bottle. He   
wasn't in the mood to argue, and he wasn't about to be goaded by a man   
who could barely even speak.  
  
Looking wryly amused both by Snape and Black, and by my abiding   
faith in Rules, Hagrid passed me the bottle again. I accepted it and   
took a sip before I realized what I was doing. Moody had distracted me   
with a look of approval. I appreciated my teacher's regard, but I wasn't   
exactly sure what I'd done to earn it.  
  
When the old Auror spoke it was to Severus, not me.  
  
"Nasty cold you've got, Snape. You need some Pepperup," Moody   
said.  
  
"Minerva and I tried to get him take some," I said. "He told me   
it's not a cold. He said it's..."  
  
I stopped. Professor Snape was skewering me with a deadly glare.   
Clearly he didn't want anyone else to know about the Alchemist's Door.   
  
Hagrid took the bottle from me and offered it to Snape. "Pour a   
wee drop in yehr goblet, Professor?"  
  
"No. Thank you," Snape said.  
  
Hagrid shrugged and gave the bottle to Sirius.  
  
"Come on. Join the party, Snape." Moody said, gruffly. The old   
Auror had taken out his hip flask.  
  
"I'll be leaving in the morning," Black said, coaxingly, passing   
the bottle back to Hagrid. "Surely that gives you something to   
celebrate..."  
  
Snape's glower at Black was interrupted by a sneeze, followed by   
the inevitable wince and clutch at his ribs.  
  
Turning to me to hide his look of amusement, mingled with perhaps   
a touch of sympathy, the Animagus said, "I've spent today working with   
Mrs. Norris."  
  
"What?" I asked, confused. "Why?"  
  
"She was recommended to me by Crookshanks," he said. "He thinks   
quite highly of her. In more ways than one. There's a matter that he and   
I both attend to while we're here. Crookshanks is gone for the summer,   
with Hermione, and I'm leaving too. Someone needs to keep a particular   
eye on the rats around here."  
  
I wasn't sure what to make of this. In recent months Black had   
earned my trust time and again. Still, the image of him as a youthful   
trickster was indelibly etched in my mind. What was he playing at?  
  
Black's voice grew softer and more intense. No humor showed in his   
voice or expression. "Wormtail could use a glamour to hide that silver   
paw of his," the young wizard explained. "Beaky and I have been teaching   
Mrs. Norris the scent of a Transfigured Animagus, and the scent of a   
glamour."  
  
"Pettigrew?" I exclaimed.  
  
As grateful as I was to Black for having the foresight to guard   
against a threat that I hadn't considered, I was worried for Mrs.   
Norris.  
  
"She mustn't attempt to catch him on her own," I said. "It would   
be much too dangerous. I'll tell her to come to me at once if she picks   
up that sort of scent on any rat!"  
  
My voice hardened. "I'm sure that a trip through red-and-gold   
wouldn't be much to Master Wormtail's liking. Hmm. I wonder which will   
prove to be stronger, the Black Effect or the Snape Effect?"  
  
The two young wizards exchanged a puzzled look. I supposed that it   
wouldn't take either of them long to figure out what I meant.  
  
Moody was regarding me with approval. "My galleons would be on the   
Snape Effect. Try to capture Pettigrew alive, if you should encounter   
him."  
  
"Yes, please do!" the Animagus growled, his hands curling into   
fists. Hagrid handed him the bottle and he took a long drink.  
  
The Potions Master had finally taken a seat on the ground, closest   
to the fire.   
  
"Try to seal him up in a bottle, like a captive Djinn," Moody told   
me. "Pettigrew might know where Voldemort is keeping the people he's   
taken."   
  
"I have been unable to discover their whereabouts," Snape said   
hoarsely, dabbing at his nose. Bitterness and shame at his failure were   
plain in his face. "Usually Lucius would have been able to learn more.   
He might have inadvertantly revealed something to me. But Lucius is   
still not himself, and both of us remain in disgrace."  
  
"Lucius is still clawing up the furniture and shedding fur on the   
carpets?" Black asked, making a visible effort to turn his thoughts away   
from Pettigrew.  
  
Snape nodded.  
  
"Doesn't leave Lucius time for much else, I expect," Moody said,   
giving the Potions Master a pointed look.  
  
"Draco," I thought, realizing that Moody was attempting to cheer   
Severus up. Lucius was bound to have other things on his mind now than   
Draco's initiation into the Dark Lord's service. Hopefully, the tainted   
Polyjuice had bought the boy some time.  
  
Snape's expression remained unreadable. Moody changed the   
subject.   
  
"I'll need to see a preliminary version of your Door form, Filch.   
I may want to add a question or two."  
  
"I'll send you what I've got as soon as possible," I said.  
  
"Good. One more thing. I've been told that you took Fluffy through   
Godric's Door." The old Auror's eyes were filled with curiosity. "I want   
to see a demonstration."  
  
*******  
  
My tongue-in-cheek remark to Minerva, about putting a saddle on   
Snuffles and riding him through red and gold, turned out not to be so   
much of a jest after all.  
  
Though I didn't have the luxury of a saddle when I rode Fluffy.   
Hagrid simply picked me up and put me down on the Cerberus's back, just   
behind the massive shoulders.   
  
The half-giant hadn't even given me a moment to put my right boot   
back on! I clung to the center neck, not at all happy about this turn of   
events.  
  
Fluffy did not seem very sure if he liked this sort of thing   
either. Still, the huge beast stood quietly enough while Hagrid spoke to   
him gently.  
  
"Good boy. Easy now. This won't hurt yeh, an' it'll only take a   
minute."  
  
I summoned Godric's Door. Once again, I missed seeing the tapestry   
enlarge to admit the Cerberus because it happened just as Fluffy stepped   
through. Though I did hear Black say "See?" Then there were exclcmations   
of surprise from Moody and Snape, followed by a delighted shout from   
Hagrid.  
  
A heartbeat later, the Cerberus and I were in front of Hagrid's   
hut.  
  
Fang was asleep on the front steps. Mrs. Norris was curled beside   
him. A casual observer might have thought her relaxed, but her ears were   
wide and alert and her tail was fluffed in anxiety.  
  
"I hear that you've had an interesting day, my sweet," I said,   
clambering awkwardly down from Fluffy's back. "So have I..."  
  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER NINE  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
  
Gramarye: Thank you!!  
  
Alchemine: Thank you!! Ah, potty-training. I remember those days... it's   
not an endless process, but it sure seems that way.  
  
I really enjoyed Myrtle's role as one of Harry's helpers in Goblet of   
Fire. As Hermione would say, it was lovely to see her out of the toilet.  
  
(There's this scene that I've had in the back of my head for ages, but I   
don't have a story to go with it. Myrtle has a chance to confront   
Voldemort face to face. She tells him off, very rudely; addressing him   
as `Tom.' When Filch tries to get her to be quiet for her own safety,   
she says "What's he going to do... kill me AGAIN?")   
  
Yes, I am in definitely in the Creepy-Stalker-Tom club. Tom's recitation   
of the way that he entrapped poor Ginny still gives me chills whenever I   
read it. "If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the   
people I needed." "Stupid little Ginny," he adds, so coldly. -Shudder-  
  
Whether he was calling himself "Tom" or "Lord Voldemort," he's always   
been a user. Many people would have been taken in by the handsome face,   
the charming manner, the sharp and vivid intelligence. Even then he   
probably had people who *knew* he'd use them and lined up for the   
privilege of being used by him anyhow. But Minerva would not have been   
one of those people.  
  
Snape would glare and say that he does NOT have a cold. (Of course, he'd   
be saying this between sneezes.) Sneezing is undignified, but not as   
undignified as having smoke pouring out of one's ears.  
  
Filch doesn't know it, but he practically handed Snape the instructions   
for the Alchemist's Door.  
  
Snape has multiple reasons for wanting an Alchemist's Door. Partly, it's   
what AET referred to as "Door Jealousy." Partly it's because no one has   
been able to make an Alchemist's Door for nearly a thousand years. (The   
instructions were hidden away in a safe place where nobody would have   
EVER thought to look.) Snape has other reasons too, some selfish ones,   
and some noble ones.  
  
Minerva understood Filch's desire to protect her. She felt an equally   
strong desire to shield him from harm. She would have insisted that he   
keep back when she tried Snape's classroom door, but she didn't want to   
hurt Filch's pride as either a man or a Squib. She's relieved that he   
did have to prudence to stay back when she said that she wasn't sure if   
she could shield Snape and herself too.   
  
I LOVE "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles!)" What a great song! I think that it   
suits their relationship nicely.  
  
Andolyn: Thank you!! I have a special affection for the ghosts too.  
  
AET: Thank you!! Snape got to verbalize his "Door Jealousy" a bit this   
chapter.  
  
Saint Fool: Thank you!! The idea of Voldemort noticing Minerva gave   
Filch the shivers too.  
  
Sirius has already cast one of his Unforgivably Cheerful curses on poor   
Snape once before. He's promised Harry that he wouldn't do it again.  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Snape wouldn't be Snape if he wasn't up to   
something.  
  
RADKA: Thank you for your comments on Chapters Seven and Eight!! Yes,   
Snape did mention the invisibility cloak in front of Filch, didn't he?   
Whoops, that's definite goof on my part. Hmmm.   
  
(Ozma scratches her head in bemusement, wondering how to fix this. She   
imagines a conversation taking place between Snape and Filch, the day   
following the confrontation on the stairs in GOF:)  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Filch: (shocked) An invisibility cloak, Professor? But... those things   
are so rare! They're on my List of Forbidden Objects, but I've never   
seen anyone wearing such a cloak during all my years in the Castle!  
  
Snape: Of course you haven't seen anyone wearing it, you idiot! That's   
the whole point!  
  
Filch: If Potter has an invisibility cloak then we must inform the   
Headmaster at once!  
  
Snape: (bitterly) The Headmaster knows all about the cloak. He has known   
about it, ever since it belonged to James Potter! I wouldn't be   
surprised if Dumbledore was the one who passed it along to the wretched   
boy himself!!  
  
Filch: (speaking very patiently, and giving Snape a look reminiscent of   
the one the poor Potions Master got from Fudge, when the Minister   
thought Severus was ranting crazily at the end of Prisoner of Azkaban)   
Come now, Professor. You know as well as I do that the Headmaster would   
never do such a completely irresponsible thing. Encourage TWO   
generations of rule-breakers? It's quite inconceivable. No, it was   
Peeves who dropped the egg on the stairs. And it was Peeves who was in   
your office last night, just as I've been telling you all along! I've   
already spoken to the Headmaster about *him,* so you needn't fret about   
this any further.  
  
Then Filch walks away, leaving Snape to glare after him in frustration.   
Snape doesn't know whose head he wants to bang against a wall more; his   
own or Filch's.  
  
Snape: (growling to himself) I know! POTTER'S!   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
That's the best "fix" that I can come up with at the moment...  
  
  
Why did the Hat try to Sort Harry into Slytherin, if he's really the   
Heir of Gryffindor? From what we've seen of the Hat, it doesn't like to   
force people into Houses without a choice. Members of families don't   
always end up in the same House. The fact that Harry was in Gryffindor   
didn't stop a lot of people from thinking that he was really the Heir of   
Slytherin.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! Yes, Voldemort would be quite jealous, wouldn't he?   
  
Besnaped: Thank you for all the individual chapter reviews!! And for   
your comment on "Squib Wizard: To Comfort Gehenna!" I agree that a sense   
of camaraderie with Snape is probably Filch's main reason for cheering   
the Slytherins. Many of the Slytherins sense this too, they see Filch's   
loyalty to the Potions Master.  
  
You're welcome for the reviews!! Your writing is wonderful!!   
  
McGonagall did know that Tom was more than just a handsome face. Besides   
being handsome and charming, he was extremely intelligent, a Prefect and   
Head Boy.   
  
But, there was something about him that Minerva didn't like. He saw   
other people primarily as tools to be used, and she noticed this. Not   
the sort of boy that she wanted to be involved with, no matter how   
handsome, charming or intelligent he was.  
  
Thank you for the compliment on the Fimbul Charm/Cold Potion   
Spell/Alchemist's Door!   
  
Yes, Filch has been working with Moody, learning to identify many   
different types of spells.   
  
He's also worked with other Professors, as everyone tries to get more of   
a "feel" for the sorts of things that can be expected from Callandra.   
  
Poor Filch has a painfully good reason to remember the Insidiarum Curse   
(ambush or trap.) That's the one that Snape usually loads up with   
porcupine quills.  
  
It was fun to let the Bloody Baron show off a bit. He intrigues me too.  
  
Remus may eventually go through red-and-gold (that is, if I can ever get   
my ideas on that story organized.) Remus's safety when he goes through   
the Door may depend a great deal on what time of the month it is. When   
he's under the influence of the full moon, he would definitely be   
considered a potential threat to the Castle and those inside.  
  
Even after their kiss, Filch and McGonagall still prefer to move slowly.   
Yes, Azoth did rescue them from a moment of potential awkwardness.  
  
Black and Snape are starting to develop a truce, but it's a fragile one   
and no one around them wants to call attention to it, lest it be   
shattered under the glare of too much attention.   
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! I had a lot in common with Moaning Myrtle as a   
child, myself. I felt unlovely and unloved by everyone. Most people do   
get a chance to grow beyond the unhappiest times of their lives, but   
poor little Myrtle never did.  
  
Yes, Filch is proving that it's never too late to grow up. And he's   
learning to appreciate the person he is, rather than continuing to drown   
himself in bitterness over the things that he'll never be able to do.  
  
Poor Snape needs to learn to like himself a little more. It's much   
harder for him than it is for Filch. Filch can learn to be more than   
just a grumpy old Squib, but Snape has to learn not to see himself as an   
irredeemable monster.   
  
Yes, I picture Minerva as having been a lot like Hermione as a girl!   
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Filch is going to get a piece of the puzzle   
regarding how he and Azoth helped Snape.  
  
aniwda: Thank you!! 


	10. Sad Farewells and Dangerous Curiosity

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Ten: Sad Farewells and Dangerous Curiosity  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
"You want me to do *what?*" Sirius Black gave me an incredulous   
look.   
  
"Cast one of those really powerful Cheering Charms on Moaning   
Myrtle. You know, like the one that you put on Professor Snape...?" I   
said.  
  
It was very early morning. The sun had not yet risen. No lights   
shone in the windows of Hagrid's hut nearby.   
  
The sleepy-eyed Animagus had a small bundle on his back which   
probably contained everything he owned in the world. He was preparing to   
fly away on Buckbeak.  
  
I'd been anxious to catch Black before he left the Castle. When   
I'd come stumbling out of red-and-gold, still wearing my nightshirt,   
with Mrs. Norris padding alongside me, Black had been looking quite   
grave. But the young wizard had smiled when he saw us.  
  
After exchanging polite bows with the hippogriff, I'd made my   
request.   
  
"Do you want me to play a prank on Myrtle?" The Animagus asked,   
astonished.  
  
"No, of course you don't, Filch," he amended when I blinked at him   
in confusion. "What was I thinking?"  
  
"Would your Cheering Charm work on a ghost?" I asked him.  
  
"I'm not sure. But, even if it works, it may not be the best way   
to go about cheering up Myrtle. Even I wasn't expecting that Charm to be   
as potent as it turned out to be. Snape didn't care for the effects very   
much, did he?"  
  
He paused to yawn.  
  
"Maybe it would do Myrtle more harm than good."  
  
A lesser amount of Moaning from Myrtle would certainly mean a more   
pleasant summer for me, but Black did have a point.  
  
"Well, perhaps if you... erm... toned it down a bit?" I said.  
  
"Why don't you try to cheer her up instead?" The Animagus   
suggested.  
  
"What? Me?"  
  
"There are ways to do it without casting spells," Black said.   
"That bathroom of hers could certainly do with a fresh coat of paint.   
Ask her to help you pick a new color."  
  
I didn't bother trying to discover how he knew so much about the   
interior of a girls' bathroom. Black had always made a habit of being   
places where he shouldn't. Instead, I considered his suggestion. "This   
IS Moaning Myrtle we're discussing. She'll choose something drab and   
dingy."  
  
"Don't offer her any drab colors to choose from. She might want   
some new mirrors in there too. And more torches to make the place   
brighter, and new sinks..." Black was grinning broadly now, no doubt   
amused by the thought of me thumbing through endless catalogues of   
bathroom fittings, holding the pictures up for Myrtle's approval.  
  
"You're awfully generous with the school's repair budget, not to   
mention my time..." I grumbled. "New paint will have to suffice. And she   
may not want a change."  
  
"Even if she doesn't, she might just be glad that you asked."  
  
Knowing Myrtle, that was unlikely. Still, I supposed that I could   
try...  
  
The Animagus watched my face, guessing at my thoughts. "She may   
surprise you."  
  
"Anything's possible," I admitted. "You actually turned down a   
chance to cause some trouble and spare yourself the blame because it   
would have been my fault for suggesting it. The world's full of   
surprises."  
  
"Indeed it is," Black said, grinning at me.  
  
"I'm obliged for the ideas," I told him. "I won't keep you any   
longer."   
  
The young wizard knelt to stroke Mrs. Norris.   
  
Not entirely to my surprise, my cat permitted his touch. Snuffles   
was considered a kindly uncle to her kittens, after all. And he was a   
good friend to Crookshanks.  
  
Then Black stood and stretched. He released Beaky from his tether   
and swung himself onto the hippogriff's back.  
  
"Look after yourself," I said, quietly. "You know the boy needs   
you. Don't be too much of a... a Gryffindor."  
  
His pale eyes glittered with mischief. "And here I thought that   
you *liked* Gryffindors, Filch."  
  
"Not impudent, troublesome young ones like you...!"   
  
Black laughed, but then his expression grew sober. "Take care of   
yourself. And the Castle."   
  
He sighed. "And tell the greasy git to look after himself a bit   
better than he's been doing. He's his own worst enemy. Inconsiderate of   
him... makes me feel redundant."  
  
"I'll tell him," I said.  
  
*******  
  
After watching Black and Beaky fly into the sunrise, Mrs. Norris   
and I wandered around the front of Hagrid's cabin. Fluffy, who was   
chained, was lying on his side near the steps. The three heads were   
resting on each other, eyes closed. But, as soon as the Cerberus caught   
our scent, the heads lifted and all six eyes opened. Fluffy's massive   
tail thumped happily.  
  
I hadn't had the foresight to bring dog-biscuits, but Fluffy   
seemed glad enough for the company. He really was a friendly creature to   
those he knew and liked, despite his fearsome appearance.  
  
"I hope that the Pup will come back in one piece..." I said,   
giving each massive head a rub behind the ears. "And I hope that the   
Castle will still be here, safe, when he does."  
  
The grass was damp with dew. I sat anyhow, leaning against Fluffy   
as I'd seen Black do the night before. Mrs. Norris climbed into my lap   
and began to purr. The warmth of the Cerberus's huge body and my cat's   
small one comforted me a bit. We watched the sun finish rising.  
  
*******  
  
Not long afterwards, I was dressed and ready to start attending to   
my list of tasks. This morning, the plumbing would have to wait. I had a   
promise to keep. Mrs. Norris and I were in one of the dungeon workshops,   
making a new door for the Potions classroom.  
  
The workshop is large and roomy, the floor swept carefully clean   
of sawdust. Places for tools on the shelves and in the drawers are all   
neatly labeled. Some had been written in Apollyon Pringle's spidery   
hand, some in my own, and many more notes and labels were written long   
ago, by people I can't identify.   
  
It's likely that every caretaker in the history of Hogwarts has   
had a chance to label something down here. I may not know their names or   
faces but over the years their handwriting has become nearly as familiar   
to me as my own.  
  
I'd finished the door's measurements yesterday and made certain   
that everything I needed was here. Plenty of wood rested in stacks   
against a wall. Hinges, knobs, fittings...  
  
"Argus? Here you are working, and the sun's barely risen. I went   
to your room and you weren't there. I asked the elves where to find   
you."  
  
It was Minerva. She was dressed for traveling in a long green   
cloak.   
  
"Y-you're leaving?" I said, my throat suddenly dry. "I thought you   
were staying for another day at least, maybe two...?"  
  
Minerva shook her head.  
  
"We won't be out of touch," my lovely professor said, quite   
firmly.   
  
"Of course not," I said, proud of how steady my voice was.   
  
"Albus will have told you that you can summon any one of us back   
here if we are urgently needed," she said.  
  
I nodded. The Headmaster had given me a stack of postcards, each   
one bearing a picture of a ruined castle. I recognized it as a view of   
Hogwarts as a Muggle would perceive it, or a Squib who is seeing the   
place for the first time. Few proper witches and wizards were probably   
familiar with the sight.  
  
"'Having a lovely time. Wish you were here,'" I said, dryly,   
quoting the code-phrase that the Headmaster had told me to write on the   
postcard if I owled anyone to come at once in an emergency.  
  
Minerva smiled.   
  
My heart cracked in two.  
  
I didn't want her to go away! Or, I wished to go with her!   
Foolishness, I knew, even as I fought the tears that stung at my eyes.   
My duties bound me to the Castle. Her duties, at least for the summer,   
lay elsewhere. Neither of us were the sort to neglect our   
responsibilities.  
  
"I'll be wishing that you were here with me, every single day," I   
said, gruffly.   
  
Minerva's grey eyes grew luminous with unshed tears. I felt like   
an absolute pig for distressing her.  
  
"Professor," I said, in an attempt to be professional again, "I'm   
terribly sorry..."  
  
"Argus, you sweet, foolish man," she said severely, dabbing at her   
eyes. "If you apologize to me I shall Transfigure you into a mouse and   
pounce on you. You have nothing to be sorry for. Unless you intend to   
wait for an emergency to owl me, because I intend to write to you as   
often as I possibly can."  
  
Her fierce tone made me smile. My brave one, my lioness.   
  
What would she say to me if I told her not to be "such a   
Gryffindor?" I decided that I wasn't brave enough to find out.  
  
"Please, Minerva, promise me that you'll be careful," I said   
instead. "Take no foolish chances. And always watch your back."  
  
"The chances that I choose to take are rarely foolish ones," she   
said, briskly. "But I will certainly take care. And you must promise me   
that you'll do the same."  
  
I gave her my word.   
  
We looked at each other for a moment, and then she was in my arms,   
her body warm against mine. I kissed the top of her head, she kissed the   
tip of my nose, then our lips met. Time stood still for a long, tender   
moment.  
  
Minerva's kisses are headier than Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and   
even sweeter than a refreshing drink of water on a hot summer's day. I   
could drink her kisses like wine.  
  
Quite intoxicated, I would have told her that her hair was like   
black silk, her skin was like velvet, and the faint dusting of freckles   
on her nose were dearer to me than every golden galleon locked away at   
Gringotts. Perhaps fortunately, I was too shy to say such things. I   
opted for another kiss instead.  
  
We stopped kissing when we needed to breathe. Mrs. Norris, who was   
observing from a quiet corner of the workshop, flicked an ear at us in   
amusement.  
  
*******  
  
Perched on a stool, Minerva lingered to watch me work on Professor   
Snape's door. Her carriage would not be arriving for a little while yet,   
she said.  
  
There was a time when being observed would have made me nervous. I   
fetch every tool by hand instead of simply using a wand to summon what I   
need. I sand and plane and level everything step by step, rather than   
enchanting the tools to continue working while I move on to something   
else.  
  
"A combination of hard work and proper organization can take you   
far, boy, even without magic," Apollyon Pringle had told me. Failed   
wizard though he was, most of the safety spells that he'd put on the   
saws and drills to protect me remained strong, even now.  
  
"Pain may be the best teacher, but I won't get much work out of a   
one-handed, fingerless apprentice!" The old man had said, gruffly.  
  
Over the years there have been Professors who have been fascinated   
by the way that I can work without magic. Maybe I ought to have been   
flattered by their interest, but I disliked feeling like an amusing   
curiosity.  
  
However, Minerva's interest did warm and flatter me. She did not   
look as though she was watching a quaint performance. Instead she   
observed me carefully, taking note when a remark would have proved too   
distracting. And her conversation held no element of `Look At That -   
Aren't You Clever!'  
  
Instead, she gave me some interesting information about Severus.  
  
"I was able to speak with Irma before she left, yesterday   
evening," she said. "We located a single book on Cold Potion spells in   
the library's Restricted Section. It did mention `backlash.' However,"   
Minerva's lips thinned in annoyance, "the book did not describe any   
backlash effects which resemble a head-cold. Knowing Severus as I do, I   
suspect that he simply didn't want to take his medicine."  
  
"So, he's just being difficult..." I muttered. "How unusual."  
  
Minerva chuckled, dryly.   
  
"After I get his door installed, I'll fetch him another dose of   
Pepperup. Then I'll stand over him until he drinks it!" I said. "If he's   
going to behave like a brat, then he's going to be treated like one."  
  
*******  
  
Minerva and I didn't use red-and-gold to go out to her carriage.   
The walk would have been over much too quickly.   
  
Dumbledore and Hagrid were waiting by the Castle gate to see   
Minerva off. She embraced both of them tightly, then she gave me a quite   
unselfconscious kiss before climbing into the waiting carriage.  
  
The Headmaster looked away politely, but his smile was pleased.   
The half-giant grinned broadly. Avoiding both their eyes, I felt myself   
blushing like a ripe tomato.  
  
*******  
  
Embarrassed, and already missing Minerva desperately, I retreated   
to the quiet coolness of the Potions classroom. Keeping busy is my   
steadfast answer to heartache.  
  
Poppy had instructed the house elves to help me as much as   
possible with the heavy work. Four of the elves placed themselves at my   
disposal, and the door was up in record time.  
  
Then, after thanking the elves and making a brief stop in the   
hospital wing for another dose of Pepperup, I stepped through green-and-  
silver and emerged in the dungeons, outside Professor Snape's rooms.  
  
He'd placed protective spells on this door too, but none that   
`felt' nasty. It was safe to knock, and I did.  
  
"Professor!!" I shouted, several times, as I banged loudly on the   
door.  
  
After a few minutes the door swung open. I stepped into a dim   
sitting room.   
  
Professor Snape, looking paler than usual except for his red, sore   
nose, stood in another doorway, one that presumably led into his   
bedroom.   
  
He was wearing his long, grey nightshirt, clutching a handkerchief   
in one hand and his wand in the other. His long black hair, usually   
combed back, was a tangled mare's nest.  
  
"Merlin's TEETH, Filch!" The Potions Master rasped. "What do you   
want?"  
  
"To tell you that your classroom has a new door."  
  
He glared, blew his nose, and glared some more.   
  
"You didn't have to disturb me for that!"  
  
"And, to tell you that Professor McGonagall and Madam Pince looked   
up Cold Potions in the Library. Your story about backlash was a load of   
codswallop, meaning no disrespect, Professor."   
  
I held up the goblet with the Pepperup in it and glared back.  
  
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a Master of Potions,   
suffering needlessly," I scolded him. "Is it really so much more   
dignified to go about sneezing than to be seen with smoke pouring out of   
your ears? You were probably worried about Black catching sight of you!   
Well, you needn't concern yourself about that because he's gone. And he   
wanted me to tell you to stop being your own worst enemy. So, here!   
Drink this!"  
  
Snape continued to glower at me.   
  
"Don't make me fetch the Headmaster to pinch your nose and force   
your mouth open while I pour this potion down your throat! You know he'd   
do it!" I growled.  
  
Snape's sneer became lethal. I'd gone too far, and I knew I'd have   
to pay. Maybe he would cast a spell on me to teach me better manners...   
  
But the Potions Master didn't point his wand at me. Instead, he   
stumbled forward, grabbed the goblet out of my hands, turned on his heel   
and staggered into the bedroom with it.  
  
When I heard the slam of another door, I wandered into the bedroom   
after him. The Professor's sitting room had been neat and orderly, but   
his bedroom was a disaster. The bed was a tangled mass of sheets and   
blankets. Parchments, scrolls and books were piled onto his chair and   
his chest of drawers and every other available surface.  
  
The poor man was ill, and I was hardly an invited guest, I told   
myself, sternly.  
  
In a corner near the bed, surrounded by an island of clear floor   
space, was Azoth's large, sturdy basket. The little black tom stood up   
and stretched luxuriantly before he emerged. Weaving his way towards me   
around the piled books and parchments, he rubbed against my ankles in   
greeting.  
  
"Hello, little lad," I said, absently. I was staring at the   
basket.  
  
The old wool basket that Azoth had found in Helga Hufflepuff's   
Workroom... as far as I knew, Helga Hufflepuff's secret cloister had   
remained empty for nearly a thousand years.  
  
True, the Lady of Hufflepuff wasn't known for being an Alchemist.   
But, she'd created the other Doors, hadn't she?  
  
After a cautious glance at the closed bathroom door, I moved   
slowly towards Azoth's basket.   
  
Inside, I saw a black pillow (real velvet from the look of it, not   
velveteen) and the rubber mouse that was Azoth's favorite of the toys   
that Ginny Weasley had gotten for Mrs. Norris's kittens.  
  
Cautiously, I rested a hand on the velvet pillow. The basket had   
seemed harmless and innocent enough when I'd picked it up in Helga's   
Room, but Severus had possessed it for a number of weeks now.  
  
Sensing nothing, I slid my hand under the pillow. My hand seemed   
to be going down much deeper than it ought to be going...  
  
The subtle protective spell wasn't triggered until I'd submerged   
my right arm inside the basket, nearly shoulder deep. By the time I felt   
the warning surge of magic, it was too late for me to pull my arm out   
again.  
  
I felt my hand being gripped tightly by some powerful force. And   
then, a sudden burst of pain...  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER TEN  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
AET: Thank you!! (Though, this review is really meant for ThePet's   
wonderful story, "The Lyrics To Your Tune," and it somehow ended up on   
the wrong review page. How did that happen, I wonder? Anyway, I agree   
that "The Lyrics To Your Tune" is off to a terrific start!)  
  
Kcarke: Thank you!! Good guess about the basket!!   
  
Going through Salazar's Door would make Harry very sick. He's a   
Parselmouth, but not a Slytherin. There's a "Wrong Door Effect" which   
affects people who go through a Door that belongs to a different House.   
The "Wrong Door Effect" makes kids get sick for a few minutes longer and   
adults get sick for a few days longer. The Wrong Door Effect is worse   
for Heirs who use a Door that isn't theirs.  
  
Harry's scar hurt when he went through Godric's Door because the Door   
was recognizing the Heir of Gryffindor and throughly examining every   
aspect of him, including the scar that links Harry to Voldemort against   
Harry's will. Going through the Door won't make Harry's scar hurt so   
much the next time, since the Door knows that the scar isn't a taint.  
  
Unrepentent Reader: Thank you!!  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Sirius with low self-esteem... hmmm, I'd never   
thought of him in that way before, but it makes sense. Plenty of class-  
clown life-of-the-party people do have low self-esteem. Some of his   
pranks, especially the crueler ones, could be a result of a self-image   
problem.  
  
The thought of being considered "interestin'" by Hagrid makes Argus   
scowl. And then Argus bites his nails nervously.   
  
Oooh, Voldemort with a cold!! God, that's funny! I might actually pity   
the Death Eaters...  
  
"Chapter four, paragraph sixty-six quite clearly states that Harry James   
Potter is exempt from all rules." That cracked me up! I can just see   
poor Snape yelling and tearing at his hair.  
  
I like your idea about Wormtail and Hedwig!! Like you, I am worried   
about Wormtail's silver hand, and what he might do to poor Remus with   
it.  
  
Yes, your guess (via e-mail) is right about the basket!  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! More about what Filch and Azoth did to help Snape   
unlock the secret of the Alchemist's Door next chapter. But the basket   
is a big piece of the puzzle.  
  
I agree that Snape and Black would find it difficult to be really   
comfortable with each other. Moody understands the Potions Master's pain   
and worry for Draco. In his way Moody also grieves for the Slytherin   
children who are in the most danger of falling to the Dark.  
  
Your wonderful story, "Another Nightmare," (which everyone should go and   
read!!) has been a major inspiration for the way I think about Tom and   
Voldemort. I may write some more about him eventually.  
  
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! And thank you for the kind words on my earlier   
stories too!!   
  
Andolyn: Thank you!! Oh, the image of Mrs. Norris capturing Wormtail in   
front of everyone like that is too priceless for words!! I love it!!!   
  
I also love the idea of cats bringing us their prey because they think   
we don't know how to catch our own. That's so cute!! (My cat is an   
inside cat, so she brings me socks and rubber-bands.)  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! Yes, Dumbledore would be proud of Sirius and   
Severus. Like the others, the Headmaster doesn't want to verbally   
acknowledge the fact that the boys are being so good. Any parent knows   
that the moment you praise your children for good behavior, they will   
behave like brats just to prove that they still can.  
  
You're right about the conversation around the bonfire feeling awkward   
for most of the participants. Hagrid was the only one who was completely   
relaxed.  
  
Rabbit-and-v-Jinx-v-: Thank you!! And thank you for the multiple chapter   
reviews!! I'm glad that you updated your stories, the vegetarian   
alternative was delicious!! Thank you for the permission to use Ella's   
Enchanted Everkleen, you and Jinx will definitely get credit when I do.  
  
The "ice mice" were mentioned in one of the books as a wizard-sort of   
candy. But now, I have this image in my mind of Salazar Slytherin   
happily feeding mice-icles to his Basilisk...  
  
The people who Voldemort has made "disappear" are very well hidden. No   
one has found them yet.  
  
Yes, Moody phrased the Rules the way he did to please Filch's orderly   
soul. Filch may never realize this.  
  
Hagrid is a fairly optimistic person. He knew that he could get Beaky   
and Fluffy to get along, eventually. I love the way that you describe   
Dumbledore "leaving Filch with the baby and getting him to feel   
complimented." It's so true.  
  
My inspiration for this story (everyone leaving the castle for the   
summer, except for Filch) came from an interview that Scholastic did   
with Rowling, which I read online. Someone asked if the teachers stay at   
Hogwarts for the summer, and Rowling said that usually only Hagrid and   
Filch stay.  
  
Yes, Filch's usual reaction to the Leaving Feast is "Thank GOD." Though   
it did do him good to start caring about a number of the kids as   
individuals. He has cared about some of the students before, but it   
always took him years to realize it.  
  
Larania: Thank you!! I really love the idea of Mrs. Norris taking   
Wormtail down too. Now, if I can think of a way to do it, without either   
one of them suffering permanent harm...  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! Snape got his Pepperup this chapter. Next chapter   
he will have smoking ears.  
  
Lataradk: Thank you!! You commented on every chapter!! Wow!! I love the   
idea of red-and-gold showing up as a blanket on Harry's bed. I also love   
the image of Snape with Azoth on his shoulders, blending in with the   
Potions Master's black hair and black robes.  
  
Wild Magic as a neutral force has been an idea in the back of my head   
for a while. It will probably pop up again.  
  
Snape seems to put himself in danger as often as any Gryffindor. Of   
course, being a Slytherin, he comes up with more creative excuses. Yes,   
I love Norse Mythology. As a kid I practically devoured every mythology   
book in my school library.  
  
Filch not only approached Snape-with-a-cold, he threatened him too.   
Maybe that wasn't such a good idea, as Snape is the only one around to   
help Filch at the moment.  
  
Re Minerva and Tom Riddle; my ideas about their time at Hogwarts were   
inspired and heavily influenced by Alchemine's wonderful stories (which   
everyone should go read!!) "June Week" and "Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc."  
  
I do have fragments of ideas for Wormtail sneaking into the Castle   
during the summer, I'll have to see what develops.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!  
  
Elektra: Thank you!! Yes, Sirius and Severus are getting along a bit   
better, but don't tell them. If anyone notices they'll start fighting.  
  
I think that the cats probably tend to choose companions from the House   
that they would have been Sorted into. So, of Mrs. Norris's and   
Crookshanks' kittens, Azoth, Juno and Beatrice would be Slytherins,   
Paladin, Pellinore and Bastet would be Gryffindors, Semyon would be a   
Ravenclaw and Briar would be a Hufflepuff.  
  
Crookshanks would be a Gryffindor, and Mrs. Norris would have been a   
Hufflepuff if Filch had ever been sorted. But she's pleased enough to be   
the Caretaker's Cat. 


	11. Secret Chambers

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Eleven: Secret Chambers  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Professor Severus Snape had smoke coming out of his ears. Both   
literally and figuratively.  
  
"You're a firm believer in punishment, Filch," he snarled. "And   
this serves you right! You had no business rummaging about inside   
Azoth's basket! You're fortunate that I used a relatively innocuous   
protective spell!"  
  
"It's called the Ferula Curse," he continued, coolly. "Azoth is   
quite safe from its effects. Only a prying human can trigger the spell."  
  
Glaring at the Professor, I held my throbbing right hand under the   
cold water tap in his bathroom sink. My hand felt as if it had been   
beaten across the knuckles with a heavy wooden stick.  
  
Snape was right. The Ferula Curse wasn't that bad as far as curses   
went. Compared to the curses that he usually favored it was downright   
benign. The hurt was a relatively small thing compared to my   
mortification.  
  
The Professor had caught me snooping. He'd emerged from the   
bathroom, having finally taken the Pepperup, to discover me struggling   
to extricate my trapped arm from Azoth's basket and trying not to yelp   
out loud as bursts of pain exploded across my knuckles.  
  
At least Snape had removed the curse so I could get my hand free   
of the basket. He seemed to feel that my obvious embarrassment had   
evened the score between us, at least temporarily. Otherwise he might   
have decided that some additional revenge was necessary. Pepperup potion   
cures a cold instantly, but the aftereffects can hardly be called   
"dignified."   
  
Severus had spent all of yesterday denying that he had a cold   
because he didn't want anyone to see him with smoking ears. Today, I had   
quite frankly bullied him into drinking a dose of the stuff. Under   
ordinary circumstances he would have been sure to make me pay dearly for   
my nerve.  
  
The cold water was making my hand numb. I turned off the tap and   
gingerly flexed my fingers.   
  
"It was you who gave me the hint about the Alchemist's Door in the   
first place..." I pointed out, sullenly. "You said that Azoth and I had   
helped you to find the instructions. The basket is the only obvious   
connection! Did you think that I wouldn't figure it out?"  
  
"If you hadn't come barging in here and gone nosing about in my   
room would you have seen Azoth's basket and made the connection?" The   
Potions Master demanded.  
  
An honest answer would have been "probably not," but I was too   
ashamed and annoyed to give him an honest answer. And Minerva's leaving   
had torn my heart in two, leaving me desolate and reckless.   
  
"Well, this is a fine thank you for my help, isn't it!" I growled.   
"You admitted that you wouldn't even have this basket if it wasn't for   
me...!"  
  
"Yes...," he said, softly, dangerously. "I've been meaning to ask   
you about that, Filch. Tell me. Where in the Castle did you find this   
extremely fascinating relic?"  
  
The Pepperup had done its work well. Snape's voice was as silky as   
ever, with no trace of hoarseness remaining.  
  
His dark eyes locked on mine.  
  
Suddenly, the smoky halo around Snape's head seemed neither   
humorous nor undignified. Instead, he looked diabolical. Like a bird or   
a mouse trapped by the gaze of a hunting snake, I was frozen; unable to   
look away or even move.  
  
He was demanding that I speak about something I'd never discussed   
with anyone, not even the Headmaster. Helga's Workroom was one of the   
Castle's Secrets. Somehow, I'd always known that. Even before I knew   
whose haven I'd been welcomed into.  
  
"Where do you suppose I found it?" I heard myself say, angrily. I   
didn't want him to know that he was frightening me. "Don't you have   
theories?"  
  
Snape's voice was pure black velvet. "Indeed I do. Can you take me   
there, Filch? Can you show me where you found this basket of Azoth's?"  
  
I folded my arms defensively across my chest. "That would be quite   
impossible, Professor."  
  
I thought he'd be furious. Instead, Snape showed his teeth in a   
grim smile. Then he released me from his gaze. I wanted to slump against   
the wall, but I decided not to give him the satisfaction. Instead I drew   
myself up and glared at him.  
  
Again Severus surprised me with a smile. But this one was   
approving, quite different from the harsh expression he'd worn only   
moments earlier.   
  
"Well done, Filch. You are one of hers, indeed," he observed, not   
unkindly. "Whether you were actually Sorted or not."  
  
My anger began to fade in the face of his praise, and his evident   
regard for me. Doubtless the professor would accuse me of being easily   
manipulated. There are times when he does not seem to understand what   
he's done to earn the esteem that I have for him.  
  
"How did you know that the basket belonged to Her?" I asked,   
giving the Lady of Hufflepuff her proper due.  
  
"I have discovered that they worked on the Alchemist's Door   
together. He asked her to keep the details of their accomplishment   
hidden in the safest place that she could think of."  
  
"He...?" I asked, confused.  
  
"Salazar Slytherin," Severus said, a bit impatiently. "Among his   
numerous other gifts and achievements, he was a noted Alchemist. And   
Helga Hufflepuff could Weave many things."   
  
Professor Snape sat on the edge of his bed. Azoth, sensing a   
lessening of tension in the room, immediately leaped into his wizard's   
lap.  
  
"Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin?" I murmured.  
  
"Apparently, they corresponded for a while even after the rift   
between Slytherin and the others." The Professor rubbed under Azoth's   
chin. The tiny cat lifted his head and purred.  
  
"Clever little demon..." Severus said, fondly, looking down at his   
pet.   
  
"Most cats are content to bring their companions dead mice and   
birds as tokens of affection. And Mrs. Norris likes to bring you news of   
misbehaving students."  
  
The Professor paused to rub the cat's belly while the little tom   
began happily wrestling with his wizard's hand.  
  
"But Azoth," Snape said, proudly, "brings me the long-lost secrets   
of Salazar Slytherin. Even though they've been carefully hidden away   
where no one would have ever thought to look for them. Tucked inside   
Helga Hufflepuff's old wool-basket, along with a packet of letters from   
Slytherin himself!"  
  
"I-I thought it was just a basket." I said, softly. "There were no   
spells around it... none that I could sense, anyhow."  
  
"A Weaver's spells are extremely subtle, Filch. I thought it was   
an ordinary basket for days. Until I happened to reach inside. I   
couldn't feel the bottom. And then I found the letters from Slytherin to   
Hufflepuff. As I said, I am in your debt. Yours, and Azoth's."  
  
I sighed. "Repay your debt to us by being more cautious with your   
experiments, Professor. Neither Azoth nor I wish to see you harmed."  
  
Severus responded with one of his usual caustic glares.  
  
"Has it occurred to you that Slytherin wanted the Alchemist's Door   
kept secret for a very good reason?" I continued, undaunted.  
  
"Of course," Snape said, impatiently. "I'm sure that he had a   
number of very good reasons. A Slytherin's motives are always complex.   
And we have more secrets than anyone," he added, with a hint of pride in   
his voice.  
  
"Just be careful! Don't take foolish risks!" I said, with a hint   
of exasperation in mine. "Don't be..."  
  
"My own worst enemy?" Severus hissed, his anger serving to   
increase the puffs of smoke that were still curling from his ears.   
  
"The nerve...! The infernal cheek of that flea-bitten, mangy   
Gryffindor lout..."  
  
"If you freeze yourself to death or end up with ice-shards buried   
in your heart, you'll only be proving him right," I pointed out.   
  
"Professor, please don't attempt to create the Alchemist's Door   
again! At least not until you understand what you did wrong the first   
time!"  
  
The Potions Master scowled. "You needn't concern yourself, Filch.   
Azoth and I shall be leaving the Castle tomorrow morning. And this   
experiment is one that I would not attempt to do anywhere but here."  
  
"Alchemists have waited nearly a thousand years for a Door...   
surely you can wait a little longer," I said, to console him.  
  
With a quiet sigh, Snape nudged Azoth off his lap and stood to   
make his bed. When I noticed that his ribs were hurting him, I moved to   
help.  
  
Azoth, who had started to make himself comfortable among the   
tangled blankets, gave both of us a baleful yellow stare and stalked   
back to his basket.  
  
*******  
  
That evening, after I'd stopped working for the day, I was sitting   
in my office. Notes for my Door Forms were spread out all over my desk,   
but I was having difficulty concentrating on them.  
  
Professor Snape has often told me that I'm slow on the uptake, and   
I suppose that he must be right. I hadn't thought of Helga's welcoming   
haven as being in any way akin to Slytherin's legendary, fearsome   
Chamber of Secrets.   
  
Did *all* the Founders have Secret places of their own? Professor   
Snape's manner had seemed to suggest that he thought it was possible. At   
least he'd seemed to suspect the existence of the Lady's Chamber...  
  
Well, Salazar's Chamber was a Secret no longer. And, the Lady's   
Workroom was well-known to me. But what of Rowena Ravenclaw? And Godric   
Gryffindor?  
  
If I should ask their Doors to take me to their hidden chambers   
what would happen?  
  
Troubled, I stroked Mrs. Norris who was curled up on my lap.  
  
"I know the Rules, my sweet..." I murmured. "A Caretaker should   
never presume. The Castle will reveal Its secrets to me, or not, as It   
pleases."  
  
Then I sighed.  
  
"Oh, well. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it? The Doors   
can always refuse me, if I'm out of bounds."  
  
Biting my lip nervously, I summoned blue-and-copper.  
  
With Mrs. Norris cradled in my arms for moral support, I   
approached the tapestry.  
  
"If it is permitted...?" I asked Rowena's Door, my destination an   
unspoken thought in my mind.   
  
Then we stepped through the tapestry.  
  
*******  
  
Mrs. Norris and I emerged into an unfamiliar Library.   
  
It was a vast, airy chamber, at least three stories high. Long   
narrow stained-glass windows rose all the way from floor to ceiling,   
bathing the place in color and light.   
  
The sun had long since set, but I was accustomed to the way that   
the Founders seemed to be able to make time stand still in their Secret   
Chambers.  
  
Bookshelves filled every available section of the wall, accessible   
from balconies, movable stairs and tall, rolling ladders. At the other   
end of the immense room was an arched doorway.  
  
At intervals in front of the bookshelves, were comfortable-looking   
couches and chairs.  
  
Rowena Ravenclaw had protected her books well against age and   
dust. Their leather bindings remained clean and bright. But grime lay   
thick on the floor. At first I mistook the pale dust for a deep, very   
plain carpet.  
  
"Well. This place could certainly do with a good sweeping," I   
muttered.  
  
Mrs. Norris leaped lightly down from my arms, leaving her own tiny   
paw-prints on the dusty floor.  
  
I followed her through the first chamber, through the arched   
doorway and into a second chamber as vast and light and filled with   
bright books as the other. It was there that I received a bit of a   
shock.  
  
Small footprints had disturbed the dust in here. Human, too big   
and not the right shape for a house-elf... perhaps the size of a first   
or second year's foot.   
  
They started abruptly in the middle of the floor directly in front   
of one of the bookshelves, leading across the room to a shelf on the   
opposite wall and then back again, to vanish in the same spot they'd   
started.  
  
Wandering over to see where the small footprints led, I noticed   
several empty spaces on the shelves there. The titles of the books that   
remained were all in a language that I couldn't read.  
  
Obviously there were other paths that led to the Secret Library of   
Ravenclaw. I looked around a bit. Gruffly, I called out "who's there?" a   
time or two. No-one answered.  
  
In a small alcove beneath a stained glass window was a couch,   
curved to fit the shape of the wall. Just over the couch hung a tapestry   
filled with Ravens in various roles as prophets, messengers and guides.  
  
There were Huginn and Muninn perched on Odin's shoulders, a flock   
of Ravens carrying food to a bearded old man in a cave, a Raven bringing   
men into being out of a clamshell. The Raven tapestry was clearly   
Helga's work, a gift for Rowena.  
  
*******  
  
After some time spent wandering around among the books (and making   
note of the small footprints that had disturbed the dust in other   
places,) Mrs. Norris and I returned to my office.   
  
The first thing I did was add "Sweep Library!!!" to my list of   
`Jobs To Do.'  
  
Then, taking a deep breath, I summoned red-and-gold. After a   
moment Mrs. Norris paused in her bath and padded over to stand beside   
me.  
  
"If it is permitted...?" I asked Godric's Door.   
  
Again, my destination remained unspoken, hidden in my thoughts.  
  
Mrs. Norris went with me as I stepped through the tapestry.  
  
*******  
  
It was a small cheerful room. From the looks of things, one of the   
oldest places in the Castle. As Mrs. Norris and I entered, my eyes were   
drawn to the fireplace. A row of bright red and gold tiles over the   
mantel spelled out "Godric's Keep."  
  
A lively tapestry hung on another wall. It depicted a pride of   
lions; a large golden-maned male watching protectively over small cubs   
as they tumbled about in play, a group of lionesses teaching the young   
to hunt, the whole family of great Cats dozing peacefully together in   
the sun. Another of Helga's gifts.  
  
A large, battered wooden desk stood against another wall near a   
sunny window. Someone had carved a small but complex geometrical pattern   
onto the desk's surface with a little knife. Books and scrolls were   
stacked haphazardly all over the desk, except for a mostly cleared space   
in the center.  
  
Against the wall opposite the desk, a weathered wooden door was   
creaking in a faint breeze. Slowly, I pushed it open. The hinges   
squeaked noisily.   
  
Wishing I'd brought along some oil, I stepped through.  
  
Godric's Keep was on a ground-level floor. It opened directly onto   
a wide, grassy yard that I'd never seen before. The yard was surrounded   
on all four sides by high stone castle walls.   
  
I stared. A Secret Room with a Yard? I could not help but notice   
that the grass needed cutting.  
  
The sky above was blue and bright with white, soft looking clouds   
overhead. Whispers of powerful magic still lingered faintly in the air.   
Dueling magic, battle-magic.   
  
Only butterflies lived here now. There was a gentle breeze,   
whispering through the grass. But I could almost hear the clash of long-  
ago weapons, almost feel the hot, dry wind of spells.   
  
There were faint echoes of the eager young voices of long-ago   
students and the deeper, encouraging shouts of an older wizard, their   
teacher.  
  
Eyes wide with wonder, I stood still in the practice-yard for an   
uncounted length of time, lost in the old magic while Mrs. Norris   
stalked through the grass and chased butterflies.  
  
*******  
  
Silvery hair and beard bright in the starlight, Dumbledore sat at   
the edge of his favorite dock, paddling his feet in the lake.  
  
"Headmaster...!" I gasped, emerging from red-and gold to stumble   
down the dock towards him.  
  
Mrs. Norris padded after me, a good deal more calmly.  
  
"Hello, Argus," Dumbledore said. "It's a lovely evening, isn't   
it?"  
  
"Very nice..." I said, dazed with the power of the Castle's Secret   
places.   
  
Their magic still clung to me, along with the Library dust and   
bits of chaff and grass seeds from the yard by the Keep. There were   
golden butterflies fluttering around my head.  
  
I had never spoken of the Secrets to anyone. Now, I thought that I   
might be crushed by the weight of my silence.   
  
"Headmaster..." I repeated, helplessly.   
  
If Minerva was here, then she would put her arms around me. She   
would say something warm and sharp and clever. She would be able to put   
my feet back on the ground again where they ought to be. I missed her so   
much.  
  
"Severus seems to be feeling better," Dumbledore remarked, quite   
gently.   
  
He tugged me down to sit on the dock beside him, much as he had   
done with Potter when the poor boy was frightened and distraught.  
  
"Yes, though his ribs are still bothering him," I said. "At least   
he took some Pepperup and got over the cold he insisted he never had in   
the first place," I added, with a nervous wave of my right hand.  
  
Dumbledore noticed my bruised knuckles. He looked at me with   
concern.  
  
"Oh. That's nothing, just Azoth's basket," I said, vaguely.   
  
Unlacing my boots and putting them on the dock beside me, I rolled   
my breeches up and dangled my feet in the lake as the Headmaster was   
doing. The cold water felt good against my sore instep.  
  
Mrs. Norris was peering cautiously over the edge of the dock,   
looking for fish.It was hard for me to stop yawning and I couldn't seem   
to hold my body up straight. After a while, when I grew calmer, I began   
to realize that I was very tired.  
  
"If you don't get yourself to bed soon, then Mrs. Norris and I   
will have to fish you out of the lake," Dumbledore said, wryly.  
  
"I suppose I'll need an earlier start than ever," I murmured. "All   
that grass to cut and that dusty floor, not to mention all the plumbing   
I haven't gotten around to yet."  
  
I yawned. "And Snuffles thinks Myrtle's bathroom could do with   
some new paint, and soon enough Hagrid will leave too, and there'll be   
Fluffy to clean up after..."  
  
"Argus," the Headmaster said, quiet and amused. "Relax. Try to   
rest. You don't have to do everything all at once. There's plenty of   
time. The summer is only just beginning."  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Dumbledore's last line in this chapter is pure wishful thinking on my   
part. How I wish the summer was only just beginning! Instead, the school   
year is starting. :-(  
  
  
alla: Thank you!! Wow!! I'm really honored by your comments!!   
  
Yes, you remembered right, Snape is my second-favorite character. But I   
like all the characters, so I try hard to respect the ones that I write   
about. And I am very fond of Sirius. Like you, I think of both Severus   
and Sirius as flawed but essentially good men.   
  
(Filch wants me to add that, while they are essentially good, they STILL   
can't be left alone with each other for five minutes before they start   
squabbling like a pair of brats. "Quite disgraceful, really.")  
  
Like you, I wish that Rowling would develop Slytherin House more. All   
the Slytherins can't be bad...  
  
Thank you for the very kind words on Fluffy, Mrs. Norris and her   
kittens!  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! Snape is over his cold, but still dealing with his   
bruised ribs.  
  
minnowgirl: Thank you!! Your observation, that the first thing Filch did   
after Sirius and Minerva, the "reckless Gryffindors," told him to be   
careful, was set off one of Snape's curses, made me laugh!  
  
aniwda: Thank you!! Fluffy is fond of Sirius. The Cerberus considers   
both Fang and Snuffles his playmates, even if Snuffles occasionally goes   
about on two legs instead of four.  
  
AET: Thank you!! I know what you mean about ff.net sometimes giving you   
trouble... I've never forgotten the time the site started telling me   
that I didn't exist.  
  
Snape was annoyed at Filch for snooping, but he wouldn't have let his   
curse do anything permanent to the caretaker. Snape was even kind enough   
to remove the curse... after Filch's hand had been rapped about four or   
five times.  
  
What do I feel is at the crux of Snape and Black's dislike for each   
other? I doubt that either one of them could say after all this time.   
  
Probably, it isn't any one thing but a combination of many things. It's   
easy to imagine jealousy being a part of the problem. Snape probably   
envied Black's good looks and his close circle of friends. Black may   
have envied Snape's apparent total disregard for other people's opinions   
of him. There were pranks, probably on both sides. Bullying, probably   
on both sides. Years of slights and insults and revenge followed by more   
slights and insults and revenge. A pair of personalities (maybe both   
with self-esteem problems) who simply rubbed each other the wrong way.   
  
I see them trying to get along now because a man whom they both deeply   
respect has asked it of them. And, it's for the sake of a cause that's   
bigger than both of them. Snape might see having to tolerate Black as   
part of his atonement. Black is beginning to realize that the Sneaky,   
Greasy Git is a useful man to have at your back, (even if he's over on   
the other side of the room pretending to be your enemy.) Of course   
neither one of them sees any reason to be polite to each other as they   
try to get along...  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, if Myrtle had something useful to do around   
the Castle she'd feel more cheerful.   
  
(Lately, I've been wondering what House Myrtle was in. I think she was   
probably a Hufflepuff. I wonder if the Fat Friar would take her on as an   
Apprentice?)  
  
The magic mirrors would be easy enough to fix or install, but the   
paperwork would slow things down. Any repairs/improvements/additional   
mirrors to be put up or done in Myrtle's Bathroom would probably have to   
be approved by a number of people before Filch could start working.  
  
I liked Sirius's line about Snape making him feel redundant too!  
  
Arthur might say "aren't you clever" to a real Muggle in a genuine   
Muggle workshop but I don't see him as an insensitive person. It's   
normal and healthy for a Muggle to lack magic. A Squib is a defective   
wizard, so Arthur would see the tragedy and feel uncomfortable.   
  
It would have been hysterical to have Sirius witness Filch bullying   
Snape into taking the Pepperup. Unfortunatly, Snape would have   
considered that Unforgivable.   
  
"Don't torture yourself, Snape, that's my job." That made me laugh! So   
did the image of Argus as an overgrown house-elf!  
  
Yes!! Hufflepuff Power!!  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Snape will keep insisting that he did not   
have a cold. He did NOT!! And if anyone asks him why the Pepperup worked   
then, he will simply fold his arms and glare.  
  
Mysterious Unsigned Reviewer: Thank you!! Your Sleeping Beauty analogy   
was funny!  
  
Andolyn: Thank you!! Yes, Argus's reasons for wanting to cheer up Myrtle   
aren't all altruistic ones.   
  
Poor Snape, he's never going to be an easy patient, no matter what his   
ailment is. 


	12. All The Dark Places Where You Must Walk

Squib Caretaker  
a Harry Potter fan-fic  
by Ozma  
a sequel to "Squib Puppet"  
Chapter Twelve: "All The Dark Places Where You Must Walk"  
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling  
  
  
  
Today, Moaning Myrtle was haunting me instead of her bathroom.   
  
While fixing a broken stall door in her drab domain this morning,   
I had just happened to bring up the subject of redecorating. Sirius   
Black had been right. Myrtle had been surprisingly enthusiastic about   
the idea.  
  
For the next few hours, everywhere I went Myrtle followed. Down   
to the kitchens, where I'd replaced a broken pipe for the house-elves.   
Up to the boys' bathroom on the sixth floor right hand corridor, where I   
had cleaned out a blocked drain.   
  
And now we were all the way up in the Astronomy Tower's tiny   
bathroom, where I'd just discovered that the leaky old toilet in there   
needed to be replaced with an entirely new one...  
  
"Purple walls and stalls?!" I said, frowning in response to a   
suggestion that the ghost-brat had just made. My temper was hardly at   
its best. "You can't be serious! Isn't your place depressing enough   
already?"  
  
Myrtle's lip quivered. "Purple happens to be my favorite color!"   
Pearly tears began forming at the corners of her eyes.  
  
"I should have known that you didn't mean it, when you told me   
that I could choose whatever colors I liked!" She said, sulkily. "What   
an amusing joke! `Let's Tease Myrtle, Raise Her Hopes With False   
Promises, and Then Snatch It All Away!'"  
  
Then the ghost-brat began to wail.  
  
*******  
  
"Surely, Madam Pomfrey has headache remedies already prepared!"   
Professor Snape said, impatiently.  
  
I couldn't blame him for being irked with me. The Potions Master   
had been all packed and ready to go when I'd come to him with my   
request.  
  
"Of course she does. It's just that... well, you're still here," I   
said, plaintively, rubbing my aching temples.   
  
"I'd rather not start depleting Poppy's supplies so soon," I   
continued. "My summer's going to be one continuous headache! Will it   
take you very long to brew something up?"  
  
Severus sighed. To my relief, I saw that he'd decided to help me.  
  
With Azoth draped across his shoulders, the Professor strode   
through the dungeons to open up his Potions Classroom. I followed.  
  
The room was much emptier than usual, thanks to his failed   
experiment with the Alchemist's Door. (Ordering new desks for the   
Potions Classroom was on my list of `Jobs to Do'.)  
  
While the Potions Master gathered his ingredients, I sat on one of   
the few remaining desks and held Azoth on my lap. The little tom's soft   
purring soothed me. It was pleasant just to sit and watch Severus work.   
In no time at all, he had a student-sized cauldron heating slowly over a   
small fire.  
  
"I really appreciate this..." I murmured. "It's very kind of you."  
  
Severus looked disgruntled, as he almost always does whenever   
anyone accuses him of being kind.   
  
"It's no bother," he said, brusquely. "But I shall have to leave   
the washing up for you to do. Why do you foresee a constant need for   
headache remedies?"  
  
I told him about my redecorating project in Moaning Myrtle's   
bathroom.  
  
"And whose idea was this incredibly masochistic endeavor? Yours or   
Myrtle's?"  
  
"Neither of us, Professor. It was Sirius Black's suggestion."  
  
Severus gave me an incredulous stare.  
  
"He meant no harm!" I said, defensively. "He was trying to help   
me."  
  
Snape's level of skepticism rose by several degrees. "How?"  
  
"Um... I thought that Myrtle's mood could do with some   
brightening. So, I asked Black if he would cast one of those... erm...   
Cheering Charms on her..."  
  
If looks could dismember, I would have been lying on the floor in   
pieces.  
  
"Well, Black didn't think that it was a very good idea, either!" I   
said. "That's why he suggested redecorating instead."  
  
"Hmm. Imagine that. The lout can actually learn from his   
mistakes," Severus said, dryly.   
  
"It's not his fault that Myrtle has the most appalling taste," I   
grumbled. "Myrtle's favorite color happens to be this dreadfully dark   
shade of purple! It will make that place even gloomier than it was   
before, and I didn't think such a thing was possible!"   
  
"Sirius Black is a harbinger of trouble, even when he means well.   
You deserve to have a summer filled with headaches for being foolish   
enough to take his advice."  
  
"Don't look at me like that," Snape said, when I was crestfallen.   
"I'm not going to refuse to give you the potion. It would be a waste of   
good ingredients."  
  
Wryly, Severus continued. "Will you take some advice from me,   
now?"  
  
I gave him a glum nod.  
  
"You've already started this foolishness, it would be in your best   
interests to see it through. Let the ghost-child have her way if it will   
please her. That was your original intention, was it not?"  
  
"But I still have to clean in that bathroom..." I mumbled. "The   
purple will make the wretched place so dark that I won't be able to see   
my hand in front of my face! I'll fall over my cleaning bucket and break   
my neck..."  
  
Snape smiled, wryly. "An old Egyptian blessing comes to mind.   
`May the gods stand between you and harm in all the dark places where   
you must walk."  
  
"Very funny..." I said, glowering.  
  
*******  
  
When the headache potion was finished, Severus ladled it into a   
goblet for me. "Best to drink it quickly, and then lie down for a while.   
Drowsiness is one of the side-effects."  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Very well then. I shall see you in a week, perhaps two," Severus   
said.  
  
After thanking him, I said earnestly, "the Door Forms should be   
ready by the time you return."  
  
He sighed. "My classroom door will be locked. Slip one under the   
door for me."  
  
"I will." Awkwardly, I added, "please, be very careful this   
summer. Look after yourself."  
  
"I am a careful man, Filch," Severus said, coolly. "And I always   
look after myself."   
  
With a stern expression that dared me to contradict him, Snape   
reached out and took Azoth from me. The little cat settled onto his   
wizard's shoulders once more.  
  
By the new Potions Classroom door, Snape paused. Looking back over   
his shoulder he spoke, quietly. "You be careful as well, Argus. Black   
might be a lout, but his advice about the Rats was sound."  
  
I nodded again as I followed him from the room.  
  
This summer, every good-bye filled me with fear. I hoped that   
Severus would be all right, and that he would return to us safely.  
  
"Professor...?" I said as we stepped into the corridor, and he   
stopped to lock the door.   
  
"May the gods stand between you and harm..."  
  
My voice was much graver than his had been.  
  
"In all the Dark Places..." Snape finished for me, softly. "Thank   
you, Filch."  
  
Then, trailing his long, black cloak after him, the Potions Master   
headed swiftly down the corridor and out of sight. Snape did not care   
for lengthy good-byes.  
  
*******  
  
Rowena's Library was quiet and private. The beauty of the sun   
shining through the stained glass windows was balm for my worried soul.   
The curved couch beneath the Raven tapestry was a good place for a nap.   
I'd made a quick trip here earlier to drop off some cleaning supplies;   
Magical Mess Remover, a few brooms, several dust mops, wet mops and some   
cleaning buckets filled with water.  
  
Giving the floors in both huge rooms a proper, thorough cleaning   
would probably take me hours. But, during the summer, my time is my own.   
I could rest now and work all night if I chose. I drank the headache   
potion and lay down on the couch.  
  
Then, surrounded by peaceful silence and warm colors, I slept, for   
a while, in the light.  
  
  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
  
This story's over now, but the next one is already in the works! It's   
called "Squib Summer." Jelsemium is co-writing it with me! (She started   
it - she sent me the Prologue, with Harry, and invited Filch to come out   
and play...) The story features some trouble that poor Harry gets into   
during the summer. And poor Filch has the dubious pleasure of meeting   
Aunt Petunia and Dudley.   
  
Hopefully, "Squib Summer" will show up before too long!  
  
  
Saphron: Thank you!! The Alchemist's Door is a mirror, formed from a   
glasslike substance that will only congeal and solidify properly in an   
extremely cold, steadily maintained temperature.  
  
Once the mirror solidifies and remains stable, the Alchemist has a Door   
that can exist at room temperature. Snape was trying to create a Door   
that he can use; one that is not bound to the Castle, as the four Squib   
Doors are.  
  
Harry may eventually see Godric's Keep, once he figures out that he's   
the Heir.  
  
emma: Thank you!! Filch is profoundly reluctant to speak of the Secret   
Rooms at all, even to Dumbledore. It could be that the Chambers   
themselves do not wish to be spoken of.  
  
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Look up there, I mentioned "Squib Summer!"   
  
Snape guessed where Filch had found the basket. He suspected that Helga   
Hufflepuff had a Secret Chamber, and that Helga's Door was the only way   
that Filch knew how to reach it. Snape asked Filch if he could take him   
there in order to have his guesses confirmed.  
  
Yes, the small footprints in the Library were made by someone that   
Rowena Ravenclaw would approve of. That's all I'm saying... ;-) Whoever   
it was used a different path than the Door.  
  
I hope that Harry will see both Godric's Keep, and the good side of   
Slytherin House someday!  
  
Myrtle's obsession with Olive Hornby sounded more like Hufflepuff dogged   
persistence and determination to me. It all depends on how one chooses   
to look at the situation. I couldn't see the Hat Sorting a Muggle-born   
into Slytherin, especially one who already posessed such a tendency to   
be moody and depressed. To me, Myrtle seems like the sort of person who   
was always struggling with depression in one form or another. (Such   
people often find it hard to make friends, and the Hat might have   
figured that she'd have better luck in Hufflepuff than any other House.   
I'm sure that there were other Hufflepuff kids who tried to befriend   
her, but maybe Myrtle didn't notice, or was too relentlessly gloomy to   
respond.)  
  
Tom Riddle regarded other people as cannon-fodder, but it's easier for   
me to imagine him leaving a Hufflepuff dead on that bathroom floor than   
it would be to picture him casually killing a member of any other House,   
particularly his own. Hufflepuffs are "Spares," who die simply because   
they're in the wrong place at the wrong time.   
  
Someday, I'd like Myrtle to tell Tommy-boy off and do something Really   
Nasty to him that upsets his plans. Her behavior will seem quite   
reckless to a horrified Filch, who will ask the ghost-brat if she was a   
Gryffindor.  
  
Myrtle: (Glaring at Voldemort) No. I'm a Hufflepuff! Like Cedric!  
  
(Moral: Don't Mess With A Hufflepuff. They're dangerous, even when   
they're dead.)  
  
Yes!! Eternal Summer!!   
  
Shadowycat: Thank you!! The Heirs can find the Secret Chambers, but they   
aren't the only ones who can. Great need can lead a person to one of the   
Secret places. Filch needed a haven, and the Castle "knew" that   
Pringle's apprentice had the potential to be a Caretaker someday, as   
opposed to a caretaker.  
  
aurendel: Thank you!! Your description of young Snape and Black meeting   
on the Hogwarts Express for is superb!! You have them both so   
PERFECTLY!! The overgrown Labrador Pup (with big feet and destructively   
waving tail) and the "half-fledged falcon!" Magnificent! Especially the   
way that both Sirius and Severus are treated with compassion, humor and   
understanding!!  
  
Besnaped: Thank you!! Filch has faith that the Castle will show him any   
places that he ought to know about. You're right about the secret   
passages being in a dreadful state. (I did have a fragmentary story idea   
that involves the passage that collapsed, which may turn into a story   
someday.)  
  
You're welcome for the story-mention! Your summer just started? I hope   
you have fun! I miss summer so much.  
  
Demeter: Thank you!! Salazar Slytherin is a fascinating character. I   
think the rift with the others must have hurt him badly too. (I prefer   
to believe that he had some personal reason for mistrusting Muggle-born   
wizards, even if his reasoning was flawed.)  
  
Sarince: Thank you!! You have a good point about the over-explaining...   
I do tend to do that. I'll try to be more mysterious.  
  
Another excellent point about Binns and his homework. Some ghosts must   
be able to touch things physically. Binns has to be a fairly powerful   
ghost if he didn't even notice that he was dead. An inability to   
interact with the physical world would have tipped him off. I don't see   
Binns as being up to the Baron's level, but he's still very strong.   
  
You're right, Myrtle does interact with the physical world... she did   
mention getting flushed from time to time, against her will. So maybe   
she can look at the bathroom furnishings catalogues on her own.  
  
AET: Thank you!! Did Salazar Slytherin have more than one Chamber? It   
hasn't yet occurred to Filch to wonder about that. Snape has wondered. A   
desire to learn the answer is one of the reasons that Snape wants to   
create an Alchemist's Door. Even Filch doesn't know if Mrs. Norris can   
use the Doors without him or not.  
  
Liliaeth: Thank you!! Yes, Snape thought that Filch had been punished   
enough.  
  
Alla: Thank you!! I hope that Rowling will introduce Chambers for the   
other Founders too!!  
  
Darklady: Thank you!! And another Thank you!! Your e-mails provided me   
with a lot of inspiration for this story!!  
  
Unrepentant Reader: Thank you!!  
  
Snapefan51: Thank you!! Snape is stubborn... he intends to keep trying   
to create the Alchemist's Door.  
  
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! The owner of the footprints is going to   
remain a mystery...  
  
Rabbit and-v-Jinx-v- Thank you!!  
  
Ahg: Thank you!! I love getting encouragement... reviews brighten my   
whole day, inspire me and keep me writing!! 


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